I was in Bengaluru last week for a business trip that quickly turned into pleasure. That’s the power of Bengaluru weather and good beer. I was barely in the city for 20 minutes, had covered only 200 m, and I already started comparing it to Hyderabad, like a typical child who was brought up under competitive parenting.
Now I know comparison is bad for mental health, but it’s great for my column. And to be fair, I’ll only compare things I actually experienced. So don’t expect me to get into how Hyderabad’s IT scene is Shubman Gill and Bengaluru’s is Virat Kohli. I won’t be doing that. Mostly because I know nothing.
Traffic
Yes, the traffic is bad. Bengaluru roads are narrow and the census is wide. So technically, we win this round. Yayyy!!!
But what did we really win with these wide roads? Nothing. We just invented new ways to use them badly. Our roads are so wide that a single bike carries eight people and all of them have enough space to breathe, hold hands, and shoot a video from three angles. Sure, our roads are wide but the riders are narrow. Also, because their traffic is consistently bad, they’ve developed lane discipline. If you say that to a Hyderabadi, he’ll think it’s the name of a new series on Netflix.
And if we really have such big roads, why are people still driving onto railway tracks in Hyderabad? And stuck on the flyover that was inaugurated just yesterday.
People
I read the news, so I knew I was expected to speak Kannada. Problem: the only Kannada I know is ‘woahhhhh’ from the movie Kantara. So, here’s my hack: try at your own risk. I booked an auto. As usual, he stopped two lanes away as per auto modus operandi. Now I had to give directions in Kannada or risk him cancelling my ride… or worse, slapping me. Here’s what I meant to say:
“Anna, come back to the main road, take a left from Madurai Hotel, and stop at the last building.”
Here’s what I actually said:
“Anna main road-idakejje... Madurai hotel left-thinkalaa... last building igloo... woahhhhh!”
Somehow, it worked. Not only did he reach, he bitched about outsiders to me. Next time, someone I knew was standing next to me, so I had to behave like a grown-up and skip the Kilikili. I tried Hindi — worked. English — worked. Telugu — surprisingly, also worked. I realised not everyone is like those scary Kannada-pride Instagram reels. Some people just want to drop you and move on with life.
Food
Of course our biryani is better. They know it. That’s why they try harder with other dishes. I ordered nachos in a bar called House of Commons in Church Street and it felt like Michelangelo had arranged them. The nachos had layers of food and thought on the same plate. Ordered nachos in Hyderabad — they didn’t even open the packet. Shame on you Blinkit.
Weather
They have better weather. Period. And I hope we never get it. We already call ourselves lazy and weirdly blame the Nizam for it and skip the work. Bengaluru has great weather and yet, they go to work. Probably because rent is Rs 80,000. But still… that weather is dangerous. It ended my business early and started with pleasure asap. If Hyderabad had that weather, I’d go broke in two months.
Conclusion
One guy in Koramangala said, “I love Hyderabad, man. The city is so chill.” And I realised — that’s the thing. The grass is always greener when you compare three days of travel with 10 years of rent, traffic, and childhood trauma.
So go ahead, keep comparing. But only for content, never for context.
Sandesh
@msgfromsandesh
(This comedian is here to tell funny stories about Hyderabad)
(The writer’s views are his own)