I just have to hear the words “Once upon a time in Hyderabad” for my grandparents’ voices to come wafting in. My brothers and I grew up listening to the many moral tales that grandfather, a retired Post Master, had up his sleeve each evening but my grandmother recounted more stories about Hyderabad. I can recollect her voice quivered every time she recalled the advent of plague and how she had to move her brood to a camp in Punjagutta. And, for that matter, when she told us with pride about how grandfather braved the Razakkars during Police Action in 1948 and guarded a sackful of cash to be able to turn it over to Government of India Agent General KM Munshi.
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