City love

When you're happening to travel alone in an auto . . . oops, metered Chennai auto from Egmore to home, which is quite a distance of 16kms, your auto meanders through many flyovers and you get to see a wonderful city bathed in the lights of the numerous street lights that illuminate the roads. It was about 9. 45 pm and with no one to converse, brushed by the gentle breeze of the night, I fell in love with Chennai all over again. I craned my eyes to see beneath the flyovers if the auto was driving above a road and tried to look above and side ways if the auto travelled beneath a flyover. Cities look beautiful at night, especially Chennai with wide roads and multiple lights of different hues - I could soak in those sights like a love-lorn lover or a love-sick poet. The heat and dry humid wind of the day time does not evoke such love unless one is so stricken by the city that even the heat is exalted. I think I like to be a realist here. The gliding Government buses, bikes with couples, cars with hurrying families or singletons blasting radios while casting a stray lingering look at the passing by woman/man sitting in the pillion or auto-rickshaws getting back home after a tiring day -- everything presents a lovely sight. Parallel to these sights, I also imagine the Chennai when I was a regular on those roads, mindless of the heat and sweat and always walking purposefully and never once glanced a loving glance at the city.

This gush of love first began showing its streaks when I started reading the post, "Those girls on Mount Road" by Snigdha Manickavel which was shared recently on Facebook by Jothi Vel Moorthy. I could relate with that writer's perspective on Chennai and tender feelings of joy started taking wings within me and I wanted to reach out to all the places in Chennai that I have known and loved - The place where I went to school lazily walking about on the roads and sharing love notes and class gossips; the bus-stop where I drank Panneer soda; British Council of the early 2000s; WCC and MCC . . . There are many such places.

While reading Manickavel's post, I also remembered another article that I read a day ago in The Economic Times where a certain French writer, Bennet Voyles in his article, "Paris is not Paree anymore; outshined by London, New York" laments that Paris has lost all the seemingly French traits and that London is more French than Paris! He lists many points that were quintessentially French but now is no longer seen in Paris. Can a city every lose the traits that made it, I wondered. Can Chennai ever lose its peculiar traits. It might, otherwise there wouldn't be so many complaining that Chennai is not the same Madras anymore. Will a day come when the spirit of Chennai will be seen only in blog posts and Madras Muthiah's articles, I wonder. But what is this spirit of Chennai that so defines this city -- Is it the healthy idli-dosa-sambar-chutney or the magic tunes of December Festival or the safety factor that makes women fearless on the roads even at 11 pm or 12 pm or the balance between tradition and modernity or the connectivity of the city or just the feel of being in a relatively calm and secure place. I cannot put my finger on any one point.


Well, I just hope Chennai doesn't lose its peculiar Chennai flavour like Paris! Inspite of everything, every time I return to Chennai, I see so many additions to this place and those additions please and irritate me as and how my mood commands but last night while travelling home in that auto, every single sight was being taken in by me as aspects of that city which I have grown to love gradually and all those sights spelt - 'This is home!'

Have you ever looked at this blog's side-bar

Chances are that many might not have perused the side-bar no matter how inviting the contents seem. The blog-post is a very attention-seeking entity that somehow manages to grab and seduce all the eyes on itself (I thought of giving the blog-post a sex but refrained from doing so. Ah! the ramifications of gender are a bit stifling for me). Therefore it comes as no surprise when the question of peering into the side-bar is raised. For sometime now, my side-bar has been housing a lovely love-lyric which I don't know how many have noticed. My early days of blogging had this poem as a post but then those days I had no readers and so the beautiful lyric went unnoticed as the flowers that grow by the road-side when we take a walk (again I am sure that everyone notices the flowers except a few. Pardon the simile). So I thought I will again put that poem (translated from Tamil to English by A. K. Ramanujan) on today and for a few minutes give you the pleasure of reading those lines and getting lost in their simplicity.

What He Said

What could my mother be

to yours? 

What kin is my father

to yours anyway? 

And how

did you and I meet ever?

But in love our hearts are as red

earth and pouring rain:

mingled beyond parting.                       

-  Cembulappeyani:ra:r (Kuruntokai 40)

Another translation of the same poem by Nirmaldasan 

Who are you and who am I?
Who's your sire and who is mine?
Sprung from what illustrious line?
Yet as red earth and rain combine,
Our loving hearts mingling lie.

This love-lyric is part of the Sangam era in Tamil Literature. There were many poets who wrote the poems but none were known by their names. They signed the poem with a line from the poem. So the poet who wrote the above lines was known as the poet of Red Earth and Pouring Rain. This tradition absolutely amazes me as the poets during that age did not want any attention and thus remained being anonymous. The poems of a particular landscape consist of elements that are found in their region thus making its appeal very local and unique.

The ancient Tamils also divided their landscapes into five major regions namely kurinchi (the mountains), mullai (the pastoral), palai (the desert), marutham (the riverine plains) and neythal (the seacoast). Each landscape was associated with a phase in love. The poem above is from the kurinchi landscape and exemplifies love in union.

The ancient Tamil system of connecting their landscape and the emotional patterns in love is a convention that has led many modern poets to write similar poems.

Hope you enjoyed reading the poem. Ask me for more . . .

Photo courtesy: Internet

Silhouette

Mornings are the loveliest part of the day. This is the time of the year when the warm months give way to the approaching winter. Not that Chennai boasts of chilly winters but still it is winter! While traveling to Church this morning, the city was a landscape with silhouettes. The morning mist shrouded the city with rays of sunlight penetrating through the clouds. The tiny droplets of water that were found on the windows of the cars announce the change in the season which also brings images of Christmas and a new year.

The city looks different at different parts of the day. In the morning she is sleepy with the blanket of mist covering her. She reluctantly wakes up to the sun and gradually loses her dreamy state. Vehicles start plying and the fumes that accompany it give a very grayish crowded aura. The evening which slowly subdues the heat of the afternoon is a welcome change from the heat but nothing can deny the pregnant silence of the night. Even though vehicles do ply at night and shops are closed, the city looks very different from what she did during the day. She appears distant, dark and mysterious. But early mornings are something that makes the city surreal. Chennai with its flyovers enable the taxi to zoom past without worrying about traffic and jaywalkers. Especially early mornings. The buildings look elegant sans people; bus-stops house sleeping people; trains run faster. There is a certain visual pleasure that is absent during the busy hours of the day.

Sometimes I wish the dream continues but dreams are like that. They pass away. But then another dream takes its place.

Conversations while traversing on a rainy day in an auto

Reality struck me when the bus halted at the CMBT bus stop entrance and the sounds of Trisulam, Airport filled the air. I was journeying from Madanapalle, a small town in Andhra Pradesh to Chennai by the APSRTC (Andra Pradesh State Transport Corporation Bus). The sounds that jolted me were from an Auto driver who was keen to get passengers and end his day. It was raining and therefore I grabbed the chance and jumped into the auto (My otherwise strong bargaining skills were put to rest by the rain and the urgency to hit home). Then we (the auto driver and I) started the journey towards Meenambakkam, the place where I stay. Five minutes after we commenced the journey, I was accosted with the question from the auto driver (AD, hereafter) "Where are you coming from?" I was once again shaken from my reverie of watching the rain and the landscape that changes after the rains. "Madam, where are you coming from?" I mumbled a vague answer "Madanapallee." He was satisfied and again, "Madam, are you from here or are you from Andhra?" Now I was getting impatient. I answered "Chennai." Then, "Madam do you work here or there?" Me: I am not working, I am still studying. The AD: Madam, are you studying to become a doctor? Well, the truth was that I was studying to become a doctor but not the doctor he was referring to but a doctor of letters. Well, then the AD asked me "Madam, are you married?" Strange questions but I liked the way he struck a familiar and easy way or conversing with an absolute stranger. I answered "No." He started off, "Madam get married a little late and do not have kids until five years get completed after your marriage. Have five years for enjoyng life with your husband. Travel everywhere. See different places, meet people and enjoy doing together the things you like." I was all ears. Then he started, "Look at me, I got children immediately and all plans of me travelling went wasted. I would love to visit many places but taking the kids would cost me a lot and that's why I tell you don't hurry with things." While talking to me he was peering into the rear view mirror to look into my eyes and talk. he know the art of talking with strangers. He spoke quite a lot of things about life, politics, the state of economy, the policies of the government, the family life and an assortment of funny anecdotes and happenings from his immediate life. We were no longer strangers. We knew each other's names. In case, you're wondering about the time . . . Our journey was for about half an hour or more as it was a long drive on a rainy day from Koyembedu to Meenambakkam. When we reached our destination, he gave me his number and said, "Do call me when you need an Auto in Koyembedu." The rains coupled with the vibrant conversation was one unforgettable journey.