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 Anvar Alikhan

 



There has been a trial. And the principal accused was Mohammad Azharuddin. He was accused of the crime of being too easy-going, too soft, too unaggressive and altogether too uncompetitive to be captain of the Indian team. He was tried, convicted and unceremoniously dumped.

But what nobody seems to have noticed is that there was another very familiar person in the dock beside Azhar -- and that was the average Hyderabadi, people like me. We have actually all been judged of the same crime of softness, laziness and passiveness. We may be nice guys, they say, but we lack drive, we lack ambition, we lack the killer instinct. It is not fire that we have in our bellies, but a hot, spicy mirchon ka saalan, instead. The entire city is smirkingly referred to as a "city of nawabs". And -- who knows? -- perhaps with good reason.

It is an indictment that was echoed by a high-profile young minister. "We want to turn this city into an economic powerhouse," he said, "But one of the biggest problems we face is the laid-back attitude of our people. They are just not hardworking enough, or pushy enough. And the big question is, how do we bring about the mental revolution that is necessary?"

But if we are to talk about any kind of mental revolution, we must first pause and introspect on the nature of the malady. On the causes of this congenital Hyderabadi laziness and lack of competitive spirit.

There are many theories that have been presented to account for this ... ranging from the historical to the socio-political, from the cultural to the ethnographic. But perhaps the most fascinating of them all is the one put forward by a philosopher friend of mine (let us call him Muzaffar Miyan).

"It's all a matter of food," he said in his characteristically laconic manner, "That's all."

What?! A matter of food?

"Yes," Muzaffar Miyan insisted, "If you think about it, there's an inverse relationship between the cuisine and the dynamism of a society. The simpler the cuisine, the more dynamic the society, and vice versa. Take Europe, for instance. The two most vigorous societies on the continent -- Germany and Switzerland --- are societies that have virtually no cuisine to speak of. On the other hand, the two societies that pride themselves the most on their cuisine -- Italy and France -- have historically been known as the most effete societies in Europe. As de Gaulle himself once said of France, 'How can you run a country that has 327 different varieties of cheese?'

"And, as for Hyderabad, what else can we expect? After all, our culture is virtually synonymous with our cuisine. And it's such an ornate cuisine. We have more than 30 different varieties of pulao, 45 different varieties of kababs and 70 different varieties of dal. As a famous Hyderabadi chef boasted on television the other day, our culinary repertoire is so vast that you can eat for 365 days without repeating the same dish. It's all those dum ka murghs and khubani ka meethas (with extra malai) that are responsible for sapping our spirit and giving us this 'Kya hai ki, miyan' attitude.

"Just compare all this with the earthy simplicity of Punjabi food, or the austere simplicity of Tamilian food, and you'll see exactly what I mean. If you were to merely change the cuisine of Hyderabad for a sufficient period of time, I guarantee you'd find our society automatically invigorated."

Hmm, this is certainly food for thought (no pun intended). Maybe we can experiment with Azhar and see if it works. No more baghare baigan. Instead, put him on a strict diet of sarson da saag, paneer and makki di roti (washed down with lots of lassi)... and let's see if he turns into Kapil Dev.

Creative Director Anvar Alikhan is a Hyderabadi of considerable distinction.



 
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