Life's a silver screen

A recent trip to India (one of the causes of my blogging hiatus for the past few weeks) made me realise why the country has the world's biggest film industry: drama is interwoven into the fabric of everyday life. Two instances from the short time I was there: firstly, K. Suryanarayana, an engineer working in Afghanistan is beheaded by the Taleban, prompting a public display of grief by his widow. Pretty normal so far. Then the local news starts showing an ambulance taking the man's other wife to hospital after she has attempted to kill herself upon learning of his bigamy!
The second instance, the death of Pramod Mahajan, the General Secretary of the BJP, the country's main opposition party, as a result of wounds sustained when he was shot by his own brother.
Travelling around Andhra Pradesh in the 44 Celsius (112 degrees Farenheit) heat was an incredibly dramatic experience in itself, not only because I didn't see another westerner for three days. Rural India literally teems with life - elderly villagers strolling across the road with no fear of being run over; lads on motorbikes or in tuned tuk-tuks (auto rickshaws); swerving our car to avoid bison or oxen heading straight towards us; slowing down to let a family of monkeys cross the road.
Hyderabad is a really vibrant, cosmopolitan, yet thoroughly Indian city. From the sleek modernism of HITEC City (home to Microsoft, Oracle, etc) to the Shi'a muslim dominated Abids district and its beautiful medieval monument, the Charminar, "The Arc de Triomphe of India" as it is sometimes called.
Alongside the drama of the place, my other abiding memories are of the politeness and knowledgeability of the people I met: from the Hyderabad bell-hop thoroughly familiar with a company I was visiting in Rajahmundry; to the Delhi businessman on the night train to Secunderabad who knew several of the managers I had just interviewed; to the excellent tour guide at the fantastic Golconda Fort who was also kind enough to buy me a bottle of water.