My most favourite place in Hyderabad ever since we moved to the city 15 years ago is the Qutab Shahi tombs nestled in Ibrahim Bagh. We would regularly take the children, who were then toddlers, to run amongst the large imposing tombs each dedicated to a sultan or a begum. Not many in the city knew or were bothered about the structure – which is why I loved visiting them. The tombs were surrounded by large mango, banyan and tamarind trees, full of birds. The children would run around the tombs, occasionally peering into the dark mausoleum under it and run out immediately, yelling that it smelt of bats. We would bring lunch and sit under the trees for shade, listening to the cacophony of birds and the azaan coming from a mosque in the distance. Every now and then we would see a family walk into the tomb complex, a woman in her burkha with her husband and kids. The tombs belong to the former sultans of the Golconda state, who, I wonder, must lie there in solitude, reminiscing about their past glory. A rich and prosperous kingdom, the Qutab Shahis ruled the Deccan for nearly 200 years. Sultan Hamdani, its founder, had made his way to India from Iran in the 16th century much like many of his predecessors had including Darius who as far back as 516 BD conquered Punjab and made north-west India an Iranian protectorate. Sitting amongst them, I couldn’t help but notice that Iran felt like a formidable civilisation. Who were these people who continuously left Persia over a period of 1000 years to conquer and establish dynasties in faraway lands such as India and make it their home? They made Persian the official court language in the subcontinent, and it continued even after the Turkic/Sunni Mughals became the rulers of India. It became the fabric of courtly life, whether the rulers were Hindu or Muslim. Many wrote beautiful verses in it. My own family’s connection with Iran is deeply embedded in the Persian language and its culture. My grandfather devoted his life to the study of Persian because he was so drawn to its indelible mark on poetry and literature. He became a scholar and teacher of the Persian language, and Iran in his imagination was primarily the abode of poets. Is that why I was constantly drawn to these tombs, the culture they represented, and the intricate calligraphy on them? Illustration: Pariplab ChakrabortyInterestingly, after having lived in many different parts of the world, life’s journey brought me to Hyderabad, where the Persian imprint was everywhere in the everyday. Sultan Muhammed Quli Qutab Shah is said to have introduced Hyderabadi biryani, blending Persian and Mughal flavours. Every corner of the city sells Irani chai. Sufi shrines dot the landscape where mystical powers are said to emanate. And my personal favourite is Moula Ali, where one has to climb an arduous 500 steps to reach the top, but it is so worth it for the panoramic view of the city it offers.Moreover, the dargah houses a stone that is said to have healing powers – I went when my own son was very ill like thousands of others who come to ask for a healing touch and health for loved ones. Built by Ibrahim Qutb Shah in the 16th century based on a dream that a eunuch in his court had, the stone is said to have the imprint of Hazrat Ali, beloved to all Shias. Hyderabad’s most iconic monument and today its biggest tourist attraction is the Persian-influenced Char Minar, built by Muhammed Quli Qutab Shah. The whole new city was designed and built around it. He had named it after his lover, the Hindu courtesan, Bhagyamati, who became his queen and was called Begum Hyder. Iran/Persia meets and melds in the Dakhan in this well-known love story. Jawaharlal Nehru said it most aptly when he wrote, “Few people have been more closely related in origin and throughout history than the people of India and the people of Iran.”Tucked away in the far corner of the tomb complex, was – the smallest of them all, which belonged to the seven-year-old Subhan Quli Qutab Shah, third sultan of the Golconda state. Ornately carved, inside was a small mausoleum that must have once had the casket of the little boy, who is said to have either died of illness or been murdered in court intrigues. As I thought of that little boy’s death, I couldn’t help but think of the countless deaths of Iranian children today, killed by missiles falling on them from the skies. The school girls, in particular, who were probably just paying attention to their school teacher who asked them to open their books, had their future stolen from them in an instant. Aparna Devare teaches in the political science department of University of Hyderabad and loves drinking Irani chai.We’ve grown up hearing that “it’s the small things” that matter. That’s true, of course, but it’s also not – there are Big Things that we know matter, and that we shouldn’t take our eyes, minds or hearts off of. As journalists, we spend most of our time looking at those Big Things, trying to understand them, break them down, and bring them to you.And now we’re looking to you to also think about the small things – the joy that comes from a strangers’ kindness, incidents that leave you feeling warm, an unexpected conversation that made you happy, finding spaces of solidarity. Write to us about your small things at thewiresmallthings@gmail.com in 800 words or less, and we will publish selected submissions. We look forward to reading about your experiences, because even small things can bring big joys.Read the series here.