This morning I finally took a cucumber selfie. I’ve spend much of the past week wandering through rows of cucumber vines inside modular greenhouses built by Kheyti, the company I’m embedded with to report on.
It is too hot and dry to grow anything outside right now, although some of the farmers have begun sowing for new crops. Many of them have cows or buffaloes who give me grumpy stares as I assault them with the DSLR flash.
I’m finally friends with the street dog that likes to hang in the door sill of the Kheyti office. The other day he was chased away and I went looking for him because I was worried about the heat. Found him around the block with three other dogs who were more skittish of humans; but he was happy to see me and I gave him some water.
Prajay Waterfront, the community where the office is, looks like it is either half completed or half abandoned. If I were staying here I’d find it equal parts spooky and boring. But I’ve come to find the surrounding farmlands lovely; here and there you can find some rugged boulders or a Hindu temple.
Venkusa Estates, the neighborhood where I’m staying, is next door to a 400-year old mosque. Those photos deserve their own post so I’ll just tease that here. There’s definitely a more suburban flavor to this area, with kids playing tennis or badminton in the street, and some beautiful home designs. Nevertheless, the surrounding aesthetic is often “faded concrete” (see: water tower).
I found a hangout spot in Secunderabad, sort of by accident, called the “Coffee Cup”; it’s a western-style coffee shop, with some fun tropical decor, kitchen-sink style ice cream drinks, and a slow and inattentive waitstaff, which adds to the charm. I can sit and read my miserable climate change book in peace and nobody will bother me about needing to buy more food. It’s the kind of place I wonder about, in terms of its reception by locals, but I’ve seen couples out on dates and the youth of India playing board games.