🌆 What I miss about old Hyderabad

6 AM near Charminar used to be quiet. I mean really quiet. Just the call to prayer from the masjid, chai brewing at the stalls, no horns. Now there's a bike in every lane before the sun is fully up. I went last year at that hour and it felt like a different city. Our milkman came on a cycle with glass bottles clinking on the handlebar. You could hear him 2 lanes away. My mother knew his schedule better than mine. Now it's plastic packets from the supermarket fridge. Easier, I'll admit, but nobody says good morning. I'm not sure when the bottles stopped. Nobody told me, they were just gone. Near Nampally station there was a stall selling puri bhaji for about 5 rupees, if I remember right. I ate there after exams with 2 friends, and it filled us up completely. That corner has a proper food court now with air conditioning and nice seats. Clean and fast, fine. But I stood there for a minute before I remembered what used to be there. The old Irani cafes with marble tables were another thing. Old men sat for hours. One cup of chai, one newspaper, no hurry in the world, and nobody chased them out. Only a few of those places are left now, and most are busy and loud. I still go to one when I'm in the Old City. The tables have scratches I know. Evenings at the chowk were the last one. Everybody knew everybody and phones stayed in pockets. Now people walk side by side and look at their screens. I do it too. That's my 5. I left out a few, so maybe I'll make a second list. What do you miss most? Even a small memory counts, so write it below.

Sameer, you've ruined my morning in the best way. I was reading this on the bus. The milkman on the cycle got me.

Hey, don't remind me, brother, those were golden days, laughing and joking around with friends without a single worry in the world. Drinking chai at the local hotel with the whole gang, sneaking a cigarette when nobody was watching, life had a different kind of fun and freedom that's hard to explain to anyone who wasn't there living through it with us. Now all that's left are just the memories, which still bring a smile every time they come back.

Reading this took me straight back to Nampally. My uncle used to take me after school for puri. I'd add one more thing to your list, the old men sitting at every corner of the lane. They knew who was getting married, who had fought with whom, who was sick. Nothing got past them. Now it's WhatsApp groups doing that job, and the news is never as accurate as theirs.