In the urban barracks of Nizam's city, one can never be quite certain what is it that its soldiers want. Maybe it is true of most metros, but Hyderabad at least, has been a baffling labyrinth of desires, dreams and the illusion of fulfillment. I've worked in Mumbai and in Chennai - both these cities are staid and content - Chennai in its fatalistic restfulness and Mumbai in its endless aspirations. But this potboiler metro is in the process of convincing itself that this is indeed life. I managed to wrangle a chinwag with Naxal sympathizer, poet Vara Vara Rao in the Biriyani Barracks. He brims with discontent, much like that prized fraternity of journalists who are in the rat-race for sheer unblinking ideology. I was witness to his nauseating helplessness and frustration. He, too, is trying to convince himself that life is such. But he's a little more honest than most - he admits at least to his frustration and to a...