Small Town Snapshots

Since the past couple of days I haven’t been breathing the Hyderabadi air. Not that I didn’t want to (I’m not going to die if I don’t) but because I have finally taken up residence in my new place of posting. At last I am in the field though this isn’t exactly the kind of field posting I had expected but nevertheless I am happy I am not working in a lousy office. My new place of posting, like I had already mentioned in earlier posts, is in a small town on a busy national highway. It isn’t very small but I like it though it doesn’t have any Irani restaurants which is one thing I am missing like anything. I can hardly believe I am able to survive without my daily cup of Irani tea. I think I have to get used to the fact that I have to spend most of the week without Irani tea in this small town.

It maybe a small town but it had a nice government guest house, one of those ancient structures built in the times of the Nizams or the British rule. It became my temporary home for a couple of days. I was lucky I got a room there thanks to someone who turned out to be a friend’s friend. In fact I am amazed how helpful people living in small towns really are. I am humbled by the eagerness of these small towners to help someone who they have barely met. After I met him and expressed my accommodation problems, he took out his bike and said he’d arrange it in a jiffy but not before taking me for lunch. Afterwards he took me to the guest house where there was an attendant who said that it wouldn’t be a problem providing me a room. He said I could come over in the evening. It really didn’t turn out to be a problem finding a room in the Guest House. In fact I spent three wonderful days in a spacious airconditioned room in the small guest house. The first day in the guest house did have its moments of drama.

When I reached the guest house in the evening I noticed that it was swarming with cops of all sizes and shapes. There were cops in uniform carrying rifles, there were cops in safari suits with sten guns slung across their shoulders and there were police officers in uniforms with pistols stuck in their belts going around in that manner that I have come to know marks the presence of one of their big bosses. Then there were several vehicles parked in the large compound. I wondered what it was, but K, the bearded attendant confirmed my guess when he told me a top cop was visiting. I changed into tees and pajamas and settled down with a book after a nice cup of tea. After sometime K appeared in my room and asked me that one of the cops, a circle inspector, wanted to know if I would mind if the top cop came to my room and had a smoke. I wondered why he wanted to smoke in my room when he had one of his own. K told me he had come with family. I agreed and sat waiting hoping he wouldn’t expect me to get up and salute him.

But the cop didn’t turn up though another officer came in and briefly checked out the room I was staying. After sometime all of them left and later, much later, it stuck me that the cops had made that request because they wanted to check me out. It is a Naxalite infested area and I guess they wanted to make sure I wasn’t one of those out to bomb their boss to high heaven. These cops like to take all precautions and do not trust anyone who isn’t a cop. I know because I worked with cops long enough to understand a little about how they think.


The guest house attendant, K, turned out to be the sort of helpful guy one cannot help loving. He turned up just when I needed his help. He brought me my dinner, hot water in the morning for my bath, my morning cup of tea and a newspaper to read along with it, my breakfast and everything I needed. In short I didn’t have to move an inch to get anything. When I checked out three days later I gave him a big tip that shocked him. He was so modest he said the tip was too much but accepted it anyway. I was in a generous mood because he had made me feel at home in the guest house.