In recent days, political temperatures have risen. Administrative restrictions and heightened security followed incidents of communal tension. Once again, the phrase Ganga-Jamuni tehzeeb has surfaced in public debate — invoked either as a fading memory or as an endangered ideal.
But on the ground, is that truly the case?
In parts of the Old City of Hyderabad, shops reopen the morning after unrest with a certain cautious normalcy. Tea stalls resume their conversations. Vendors rearrange fruit carts. Schoolchildren walk past visible security presence as if adapting, not surrendering.
Near a small kirana store, an elderly shopkeeper — who requested anonymity — offered a measured response when asked about rising tensions.
“We have lived together for generations,” he said quietly. “Politics comes and goes. We cannot afford to fight. Our customers are our neighbours.”
His words carried neither idealism nor denial — only pragmatism shaped by lived experience.
The idea of Ganga-Jamuni tehzeeb, often associated with cities like Lucknow and Hyderabad, was never sustained by grand declarations. It grew through shared markets, shared languages, shared festivals — and sometimes shared silence.
There is undeniably sharper political positioning today. Narratives travel faster. Reactions escalate quicker. Administrative measures are more visible and more immediate.
Yet among ordinary residents, there appears to be a conscious effort to preserve equilibrium. Harmony is not loudly proclaimed; it is quietly practised.
As someone who has reported through multiple political cycles, I have seen tensions rise and recede. What endures is rarely the slogan — it is the street. Not the statement — but the shared space.
In many homes, prayer at dawn and ritual at dusk continue without contradiction. Participation across traditions does not always make headlines, but it sustains neighbourhood stability.
Perhaps the real test of shared culture is not whether it faces strain, but whether people choose restraint when strain appears.
On the ground, that choice is still being made — one shop shutter lifted, one greeting exchanged, one ordinary day reclaimed at a time.
And sometimes, steadiness is strength.
