Hyderabad, where's the buzz (gone)?

On a cricket tour, cab drivers often offer an accurate barometer of sporting frenzy. The long drive from the Rajiv Gandhi International Airport into Hyderabad's CBD is a great chance to discover what's hot.

All it takes my cab driver is a glance at my phone, while I give him the OTP, to figure I'm here for the Cricket World Cup in some capacity. My phone's home screen has been set to display various iconic cricket images every day and his hawk eyes have just seen Jonty's moment of airborne genius from 1992.

It's early in the morning and I'm a bit groggy. Yet, I try and look around the domestic arrival terminal for any sign that even remotely spells out "World Cup". I find nothing. Not even signage, let alone billboards. I ask the driver about this. He pointed to the bawaal (excitement arising from chaos) he witnessed last week when the airport sprang to life early morning with Pakistan's arrival.

As I drive into the city, I ask him if he's keen on watching a game. Not that I had a ticket myself. At the time of writing, my accreditation for the match was still under approval after a late request to the ICC. Instead, he throws one back at me. "Why is India not playing in Hyderabad? They are playing in every other big city." He is not amused in the least.

Before I say a word, he says, "Association ka maara-maari hoga." (Association politics). It's a proper punchline that underlines the mudslinging that has gone on for far too long at the Hyderabad Cricket Association (HCA), with several warring factions allegedly running the body into the ground. The HCA is currently run by a Supreme Court-appointed committee to ease administrative matters.

I ask him if he has watched a match in Uppal. Of course, he has. Earlier this year, the taxi company he works for rewarded him for being one of the top-rated drivers over the preceding month, and he watched Shubman Gill hit a double-ton against New Zealand. Does he have a chance of a repeat? Scoring a World Cup ticket, maybe?

"Agar India khela hota to…" (If India had played). Then there's silence.

Anticipating a ticket request (even Virat Kohli doesn't have them, apparently), I try and veer the conversation towards food options. No biryani for me, please (yes, such people do exist), I say. "I'm vegetarian." He gives me a long list of restaurants in and around Banjara Hills, where I'm going to be camping for the next two days. He also tells me not to miss the paan ice cream at one of the famous parlours in the area.

Our engaging chat ends with him giving me a five-star passenger rating, and me reciprocating. The World Cup buzz may not be entirely palpable, but my first tryst with the city in six years was as warm and fuzzy as what Pakistan have experienced over the past week.