Usha Akella's Hum Aiseich Bolte is an ode to Hyderabad, and Hyderabadi Hindi

Birds (Sketch by Viswaprasad Raju, in Hum Aiseich Bolte)

This is Just How We Speak. “Hum Aiseich Bolte!” This Hyderabadi expression has inspired the title of an anthology of poetry which pays tribute to the south Indian city, and was released at Hyderabad Literary Festival 2023 (January 27-29, 2023).

Variously known as Hyderabadi Urdu, Hyderabadi Hindi and Deccani/Dakhni (depending on whom you ask), the dialect is a potpourri of Urdu, Hindi and Telugu and has evolved over the past 430 years or so that the city has been in existence.

Edited and curated by award-winning poet Usha Akella, the book is a celebration of Hyderabad, and features 35 poets whose works explore and articulate its many dimensions, past and present. The book cover has artwork by celebrated artist Laxma Goud and the inner pages are sprinkled with Viswaprasad Raju’s quirky sketches.

A sketch by Viswaprasad Raju, from Hum Aiseich Bolte

Hyderabad, with the fabled name Bhagyanagar, is a city of contrasts, straddling two identities–the old-world and modern. From Rabindranath Tagore’s 'Kohesar' and Sarojini Naidu’s 'Nightfall in the City of Hyderabad' to Srinivas Rayaprol’s 'Streets' and Makarand Paranjape’s 'Necropolis', the poetic voices present the many facets and moods of the city.

Hyderabad has inspired contemporary poets too. Nabina Das’ eulogy to Taramati Baradari as a space of history and romance also echoes her personal hopes and dreams. 'An Eclectic Prayer' by Atreya Sarma Uppuluri shows how multiple faiths co-exist here and references the city’s best-known symbols—pearls, biryani, haleem, etc. Viswaprasad Raju’s witty Just 'Hau We Say It' provides a primer to Deccani. He reveals how speakers of ‘regular’ Hindi and their Hyderabadi counterparts express the same thing.

We spoke to the editor, Usha Akella, a poet and Creative Ambassador, City of Austin (2015 and 2019), USA. She was born and brought up in Hyderabad and received her initial education here. Akella has a master's in Creative Writing from Cambridge University and has read her poetry at several international poetry festivals. Her books include The Waiting (Sahitya Akademi, Delhi) and I Will Not Bear You Sons (Spinifex Press, Australia). She also writes prose. Akella has produced/written two musical dramas; and is founder and co-director of the poetry festival ‘Matwaala’, USA’s first South Asian Diaspora Poets Festival. Edited excerpts:

Your book is a tribute to the city you grew up in. How did it happen?

As an immigrant there is always the awareness of home, loss, and identity. Literally, home reflecting that nostalgia is Hyderabad in which I was first a schoolgirl, then a young woman. The Hyderabad I knew in my skin was a sleepy town, barely a city even. The tumultuous growth of the city stuns me every time I return; its past, intruding here and there like the huge boulders I see precariously positioned from the highways. A huge metropolis, I’ve wondered about its denizens, its pace, the shift in place and people’s psychology—and how they affect each other. While essentially, wanting to pay tribute, I was also keen to see what kind of poetry the city was evoking in contemporary poets.

I traced the poetry from Tagore to a crop of young poets. You will notice the gradual shift from Tagore’s transcendental gleam, Sarojini Naidu’s lilting rhymes to modern sensibilities shaped by angst, and contemporary malaise.

Usha Akella

How did the project evolve?

I began working on the anthology during COVID-19. It began as an idea for a coffee-table book combining art and poetry but that didn’t work. I didn’t have the girth to pursue the original idea while living abroad–seeking funding and such from Hyderabad locals was not realistic for me. The idea became contained as a sole poetry-book.

Luck intervened, and Viswaprasad Raju, advertising professional and sketcher entered the fray magically and the original idea got resurrected. So, I hold the book with its Laxma Goud cover, with contentment now, the dream realised.

I was aware the city had a tradition of Urdu, Telugu and Hindi poets, etc., but I didn’t have the expertise to deal with those languages, and didn’t want to pretend I could. I hope this anthology will inspire poets in regional languages to cull their own anthologies celebrating Hyderabad.

What was the criterion for the choice of these poems?

The final criterion was that the poet had to have an association with Hyderabad in some sense. Initially, residence was the stipulation, but I realised that was stringent because there could be poets who lived in Hyderabad, and moved away. I was not interested in only ‘celebrity’ poets, I wanted to find young voices, fresh talent. As long as I felt there was promise, or that it was a good poem or could become a good poem, I was willing to consider it.

Hum Aiseich Bolte

Of these poems, were any commissioned specially for this book?

There were no commissions. I tried very hard to suggest the writing of new poems, but poets were content to send existing material. A bit disappointing but the poems made up. Some reworked the poems enthusiastically. I wrote one poem, so did Sneha Verghese and others; the clincher poem that wraps up the anthology was by Viswaprasad Raju.

Any personal favourites among the poems and why?

For some reason, Padmasundari’s Salar Jung museum poem has a poignant place in my heart. She is a name almost lost in the annals of Indian English poetry. Poetry was eclipsed along the way by her life’s vicissitudes and demands. She had a promising future… That so much promise was cut short by domesticity, and duties, is a tragedy that moves me deeply as a woman poet. She was delighted when I accepted her poem. It was a resurrection of a kind. The poem is astonishingly new though written years back; it has a bite, a self-awareness, and balances emotion, intent, and form admirably. I wonder what that talent could have become if she had had the chance to bloom fully, and long. Even more regrettably, she died last year. Her sisters attended the release, and one of them read the poem––an unforgettable moment for me as an editor.