Mostly a Good Time
Central bus stands are the same everywhere. diesel fumes, seething human masses, conniving rickshaw drivers, shifty touts, resigned commuters, bawling babies, crawling beggars and every one of them could easily belong to any of the hundreds of bus terminals across the subcontinent. It's only when you emerge from the human flotsam into the city you have touched down this fine morning that you realise that this is a different world. This is a city whose character is more north of the deccan than south of it. one that for centureis has been the meeting point of cultures from both the sides of the godavari. One whose unique brand of speech manages to convey equal parts of disdain and irreverence, with generous measures of nonchalance thrown in for added flavor. A city that's equally famous for its relaxed way of life as it is for its delectable cuisine. And adding to its list of more recent achievements, a much improved quality of infrastructure over my home city. It's not ever