hi-tec city

I first arrived in Hyderabad at 4AM, and two things about my ride here shocked me. First, even the main roads were in pretty bad condition. Second, the traffic, even in the middle of the night. The taxi eventually dropped me at my residence in a place called Banjara Hills, which is pretty much the Beverly Hills of this sprawling, congested, unplanned, diverse city.

Until I’d spent a little time in the middle of Hyderabad, though, Banjara Hills didn’t seem anything special. But now I’ve learned that Hyderabad is really a crowded collection of small shops and residences on winding streets. Over here in Banjara, the streets are actually far calmer, and the stores and residences are noticeably fewer and posher. Sadly, it took me quite a long time to realize this.

If you proceed farther out of the “real” Hyderabad, going west on the one wide, well-lit road out of Banjara Hills, you begin to approach a place everyone here knows as “Hi-Tec City.” And as you make that approach, everything changes again.
Hi-Tec City exists because US companies whose work can be transferred through the internet realized three things about India: one, it is night here when it is day in the US. Two, a lot of people speak pretty good English here. Three, day or night, people are willing to work for a whole lot less than they are in the States.

So in 2007, whereas I’ve seen no building in Hyderabad taller than five stories (and few not built of cement), Hi-Tec city boasts skyscrapers that employ thousands of people each. Although I’m not sure what half the people in there do, I know that a good deal of Hi-Tec City consists of call centers. And if you work in one of those (a great job here, by the way), you work US hours. Once I understood that, I knew why there was traffic on the roads here my first morning drive from the airport.

And when I go to the Hi-Tec City area, where I’ve been twice to go shopping in a pretty fun place (see later posts), I see the excitement and the energy that the FDI from the US tech companies generates here. The bustle of small shops on crowded streets re-appears, where it had vanished in the hills where I live. Large signs advertise “working men’s hostels,” and “working women’s hostels.” Earnestly and painfully, young mothers carrying babies beg for change from every well-to-do traveler they see. Scores of locals walk the streets and chat, hanging out at diverse storefronts and eating snacks.

Just down the street, an enormous yellow and glass building that calls itself “The Pride of Hyderabad” on postcards, has elaborate security in front. It’s rather stark. And it keeps consuming and generating its strange energy into the night, all night, every night.