driving through hyderabad

I drove through the old city, trying to make sense of the changes, the new buildings, the new streets, the new names. I thought about my childhood, about the eidgah, about the smell of haleem, and I felt a pang of nostalgia, a sense of loss, like I was mourning the death of a certain kind of past. I passed by the Charminar, the Falaknuma Palace, and I thought, these are the same places, but they feel different, like they've been transformed, like they've been remade. I drove further, to the outskirts of the city, where the houses are newer, the streets are wider, and the people are different, and I thought, this is the new Hyderabad, the one that's emerging, the one that's changing. I felt a sense of disorientation, like I was lost, like I didn't know where I was, like I was driving through a strange city, and I thought, maybe this is what it means to be from a place, to be connected to it, even as it's changing, even as it's moving on without you. I stopped at a traffic light, looked around, and I saw a sign, that said 'Secunderabad', and I thought, this is where my father grew up, this is where he went to school, and I felt a sense of connection, like I was linked to this place, like I was a part of it.