It was high sun over the computer institute of Hyderabad.

Certainly not rush hour, but the times when the buses are rushing back to their depots, by passing passengers.

 A bus for sanjeeva reddy nagar was fully packed, and I was jammed in the crowed outside.

A big lady behind me shouted, `you can not enter. Let me pass first.’

I squeezed myself and allowed her pass, and followed her.

Thanks to her pushing power, I was also able to enter the bus!

When the bus became some what lighter, half way between Ranga and Rani House , I found myself beside an Britten hippy, Mr. James ford , 6/68 HT layout, RT street London Britten.

But when I come across a single and solitary foreigner, courtesy demands that I should whisper a word to him, so that we Indians do not appear cold-hearted people, indifferent to people from other countries.

`Treat the foreigner as a friend’, said Jawaharlal Nehru; and I follow his advice.

`Why are you travelling alone?’ I asked him. `Hippies usually move in droves.’

`One can see the country better when alone,’ he said, `and one has more peace of mind.’

True- `I don not want to disturb your peace of mind,’ I said, `as I do not want to disturb my peace of mind, and so I will ask you just one question; what is the best and the worst you find in India?’

`That is a very curios question,’ he said. `Who are you?’

`I am an author and journalist. I wrote books and you?’

`I am will also be a journalist when get back to Britten, and so I will reply your question to the best of my knowledge and experience. I think the best in India are the Indian sweets.’

`What sweets you have taken and appreciated?’

Kovo and Jilabis, for example.’

`Good. Now what do you find worst in India?’

`Hyderabad buses’, he said.