Hyderabad Metro meets heritage head-on Premium
The Hindu
Bibibazaar in Hyderabad faces cultural, historical, and heritage loss due to the impending metro rail construction.
The morning air at Bibibazaar in Moghalpura, a business thoroughfare of Hyderabad, crackles with the vibrant symphony of urban life. Around 8 a.m., the Victoria Restaurant fills the air with the intoxicating aroma of freshly-fried pooris, steaming shorba and freshly baked naan. Outside, the street is a kaleidoscope of motion — a blur of auto-rickshaws, State-run buses and sundry vehicles, even as groups of children stroll to school with carefree ease. Some, however, can be seen jumping past overflowing sewage, dodging two-wheelers or maneuvering around piles of construction debris and a new marker on the road that proclaims, ‘With Revanth Bhai as CM, Old City Gets Metro’.
A few of these children study at the 145-year-old Mufeed Ul Anam School in Aitbar Chowk, which, like many other structures in the area, is poised to lose part of its land for the metro rail corridor that will snake through the inner core of Hyderabad. “During the earlier road widening, we lost one room. Now, we stand to lose half of our original classroom,” laments school principal Rama Devi, an educator with 33 years of service.
The impact extends beyond educational institutions. Syed Abid Husain, an octogenarian resident of a 120-year-old house with a wall-to-wall carpet, sits amid the remnants of a bygone era. With a heavy heart, he points to a mark on the wall. “This house will be demolished up to that point. This room, along with half the verandah, will be gone. We will be left with a mere shell of our home,” he says as his voice trails off, filled with a sense of profound loss.
“Every year, during the 10th day Muharram procession, the elephant graces our doorstep. We climb the ledge to make offerings,” says Husain, whose residence — a landmark designed by chief architect of Hyderabad State, Zain Yar Jung — stands opposite the Azakhana-e-Zehra, a place of cultural and religious significance.
The metro rail construction will not only diminish his living space but also sever a deep-rooted connection to his heritage. “The metro is unnecessary; they can use another route to build it,” he declares, his voice laced with anger. Husain is now preparing to challenge the project in court, a last-ditch effort to save his home from the impending demolition, a home that will be reduced by nearly 44 feet from the road.
But outside the house, there is no walking space for pedestrians. The narrow walkway is a chaotic mix of beggars, lemon sellers, sugarcane juice vendors, and haphazardly parked auto-rickshaws and abandoned vehicles. This very stretch undergoes transformation during the first 10 days of Muharram, becoming a spiritual wonderland filled with the soulful sounds of zikr, majlis, and the ziyarat of alams.
Beyond Ali Lodge lies the Princess Esin Girls High School, a relic of the Purani Haveli, the 18th century palace complex that was once the seat of power of the Asaf Jahi rulers (Nizams) and was gifted to Prince Sikander Jah as dowry.
The beginning of every year in Bengaluru is marked by the Glass House in Lalbagh Botanical Garden turning into a riot of colours, as it hosts the Republic Day flower show organised by the Horticulture Department. This year, the show which was inaugurated on January 17 is designed around the theme of Adikavi Maharshi Valmiki, the poet who wrote the epic Ramayana. It offers everything that the visitors need to know about Valmiki, but through flowers.