Hyderabad

MOPO-am-Sonntag reporter Philipp Dudek worked for an Indian newspaper for four weeks.

Four weeks in India. Four weeks in the mega-city. Naturally, I must tell you about Hyderabad’s traffic problems: 2.1 million auto rickshaws, motor scooters, busses and cars and more than 400 traffic deaths every year. I could also report on the gigantic burning mountain of rubbish at the outskirts of the city measuring 50 metres high and weighing 10 million tonnes. I can tell you about bitter poverty and filthy rich business tycoons or about matchmakers and a multibillion IT industry. But if you really want to learn something about the people who live in this wondrous big city in the middle of a stony landscape, I have to tell you stories about cigarettes, chai, and worn out shirts.

In the land of dreams: They work hard in India. A six-day week working about ten to twelve hours a day is quite common, and five days of holidays in a row are a luxury. That six percent economic growth has to come from somewhere. The result: they sleep a lot in India, deeply and soundly at every opportunity that can be wrested from the workday. With their heads leaning on the back of the driver in front of them, grown men sleep on motorbikes going full speed. Sitting on a bench, businessmen snore in front of office buildings. The mobile phones ring at full volume in their shirt pockets, a bus races past honking loudly and still the gentlemen snooze in their suits.

The telephones, speaking of mobiles: In Hyderabad mobile phones are the most important device in working and everyday life. Simply everything is taken care of via text message: cinema and bus tickets are ordered, bank statements checked, conferences convened, electric bills paid. It’s no wonder at these prices: a text costs the equivalent of 1½ cents, a call minute costs even less. That is why people use mobile phones so much in Hyderabad. Even if the person they are speaking to is only in the office next door.

Chai: At all times of the day, Hyderabad’s street vendors are frying, cooking, and roasting. Samosas most of all (deep-fried pastry stuffed with seasoned vegetables or meat) are available at every corner. But, the most important snacks in Hyderabad are cigarettes and chai. Drinking chai in Hyderabad’s tea shops is a fantastic experience, especially if you’ve pounded your fist in your open hand three times, calling loudly “Strong! Strong! Strong!” to signal to the waiter that you want some tea in that milk. Although there are big “No Smoking” signs in almost every chai shop, the first thing most patrons do before seating themselves is to light up a cig. It is quite practical that there is a little cigarette stand in front of every single chai shop that sell cigarettes in packs or individually. A smouldering length of rope is usually hung on the outer wall of the cigarette stand as a perpetual lighter.

The perpetual talk show: Conversation is just as essential as spiced tea. People talk a lot in Hyderabad. If two are conversing, it’s just a matter of seconds until a little group of curious folks join them. It can be strange at a restaurant to suddenly be surrounded by eavesdropping wait staff who would love to take part in the discussion. However, in the everyday life of a journalist the Indians’ need to talk is very advantageous. Every afternoon journalists from various newspapers gather in front of the federal court in Hyderabad and converse loudly. They talk about corrupt police officers, quick-witted judges, and lame lawyers. They laugh, smoke, and drink chai while compiling important information for their next stories. The journalists don’t mind that members of the military and police also stand there and listen in. After all, the officers have the same pronounced need to communicate as the waiters in the restaurants.

Indian shirts: While many women in Hyderabad wear resplendent, colourful saris or shalwar kameez, the standard apparel of many Indian men consists of trousers, sandals, and a worn out business shirt with a breast pocket. Indian men stuff into this shirt pocket all that men in Hamburg lug about in a shoulder bag: keys, mobile, notebook, cigarettes, and pen. That’s why the shirt sometimes hangs sort of lopsidedly and there’s almost always a little ink spot under the pocket. Still, I quickly discovered the advantages of the breast pocket: at 40 degrees, within minutes a backpack or shoulder bag adheres itself to the body. A new MOPO colleague: Suryanarayana Natraj (46) from Hyderabad has been the guest of MOPO since Friday. The journalist from the newspaper Deccan Chronicle will observe life in Hamburg and report on it regularly in the MOPO for four weeks. He already has a shoulder bag and a bicycle.