The boxes have been unpacked and set aside. Jet lag is definitely on its way out. The snacks are half depleted and homesickness doesn't singe like it did a few days back. As the curtains come down on yet another holiday trip to the old country, there are myriad thoughts that come to mind. Here are a few of them in no particular order.
Three functions in the home and as many hospital visits. Two cities and two trips between them. Two lost cellphones. Plenty of housekeeping and walking the family politics tight rope. And a half a dozen temple visits woven into the already hectic schedule. If our vacations were movies, they would carry statutory warnings urging the general public from undertaking such activities.
Vacation - the misconception
Vacation - the misconception
Most people that I know take a vacation with the aim of relaxing. Taking a break from the daily grind. It needn't necessarily be a picturesque place with stunning scenery and a resort to kick your feet up. One could vacation in a godforsaken place like Ambur or Guntakkal, no personal animosity towards either of these two towns, and still emerge fully rejuvenated. The idea, I would imagine, is to not prepare a running list of action items and get into a race against the clock. But that is the routine for normal people. We do vacations slightly differently in our family - with a strong sadomasochist flavor. Imagine trying to run a marathon in 9.79 seconds. On barefoot. Even before the dates are finalized, there are at least two sets of diverging tasks with shuffling priorities. Once we arrive in India, a third and a fourth list with a dozen different items each, get added on. Long story short, by the time the day of the return flight dawns, there are compromises, unfinished tasks, missed chances and plenty of guilt to carry back home.
Chennai - the city that was
A city that threatens to cut all remaining connections with its roots at breakneck speed. What are those roots? The answer depends on the individual. My attempt to define Chennai's roots would be a shamelessly nostalgic exercise by yet another caught-in-a-timewrap-NRI and so I won't do it here. But there seems to be a certain desperation to affix on its lapel the cosmopolitan city tag and lose its cultural/traditional identity in a hurry. If it pained me to see McDonald's, KFC and Subway outlets in Bangalore in 2013, I'm pissed beyond words to see KFC, Domino's and Papa John's at every street corner in Chennai. When there is absolutely nothing wrong with the idlies, vadais and pongals available at the bhavans and cafes.
Earlier (as in, when I was a kid, which was, sadly, many years ago), restaurants that served meat had special, unmistakable names: Colombia, Runs, Coronet, to name a few. The aroma (foul smell) from within the confines would be strong and just scanning the handwritten "Today's special" board at the entrance would give me shivers. The clientele would be mostly men. And those places invariably had a cigarette stall at the entrance that also sold beedas to the well fed patrons stepping out. Cut to 2015. Going by their sheer numbers now, I realize that meat consumption at restaurants must have risen exponentially and that such establishments have gained acceptance as family sppropriate places.
Busy, crowded malls, SUVs hogging available road space, late night shows running to packed houses at multiplexes, organic grocery stores and The Hindu that sells its front page to the highest bidder: this is a Chennai with a strange flavor to it that old timers may find hard getting used to.
Kalam - El Presidente par excellence
An ex-president whose passing away brought together people in a way not seen in recent history, transcending regional and religious identities. Flex boards bearing his face, a quote and a few words from the local folks popped up at every street corner in Chennai. It is difficult to imagine such a genuine show of love and respect for an individual without caste, cash or Dravidian party affiliations in Tamil Nadu. An inspiring story of a truly simple man that stood really tall among the politicians. It was also sad to see that it quickly went from a natural outpouring of respect to the "right" thing to do. Many commercial establishments jumped on to the Kalam-grief bandwagon and started placing the token Kalam picture by the entrance only to not be left out.
MTC - Pallavan in a new garb
Forget the brand new Chennai Metro. I took a ride in an MTC (the erstwhile Pallavan) bus. From Vadapalani to Adayar. In a throw back to the olden days, I boarded it not at a bus stop, but in running at a busy intersection. But I stuck out rather starkly from the regulars that day. And how! For starters, I was in shorts and a t-shirt - a definite give away that I was truly not a regular patron. I had in my hand a black helmet. Stuffed with sweets and savories from Gowri Shankar (Chennai's best wheat halwa and sonpapdi maker to date!) And I was clutching a pink ladies' purse on the other. And I misheard the fare as Rs. 70 and without batting an eyelid, handed the conductor a hundred rupee note when he had actually asked for Rs 17. So. Out. Of. Touch. The conductor now has a device for ticketing but still doesn't go to the passengers to issue tickets. Old wine in a new bottle anyone?
Mysore - the clean thorn in my flesh
This city, where from hails my wife, was announced as the cleanest in India's swachh Bharat campaign. People that made the announcement obviously didn't marry a dyed-in-the-wool Mysorean udugi. For someone that already had her nose in the air when it came to matters concerning general cleanliness and hygiene in public places between the two cities, this announcement making it official (across all of India) made her float on air. Oh the ribbing that I had to endure in both Mysore and Chennai! Especially when the train was just pulling into the northern outskirts of Chennai. Ouch! My only feeble come back? I could recharge my mobile internet dongle at 11:30pm in singara Chennai and not in heritage Mysuru. Aha!
Earlier (as in, when I was a kid, which was, sadly, many years ago), restaurants that served meat had special, unmistakable names: Colombia, Runs, Coronet, to name a few. The aroma (foul smell) from within the confines would be strong and just scanning the handwritten "Today's special" board at the entrance would give me shivers. The clientele would be mostly men. And those places invariably had a cigarette stall at the entrance that also sold beedas to the well fed patrons stepping out. Cut to 2015. Going by their sheer numbers now, I realize that meat consumption at restaurants must have risen exponentially and that such establishments have gained acceptance as family sppropriate places.
Busy, crowded malls, SUVs hogging available road space, late night shows running to packed houses at multiplexes, organic grocery stores and The Hindu that sells its front page to the highest bidder: this is a Chennai with a strange flavor to it that old timers may find hard getting used to.
Kalam - El Presidente par excellence
An ex-president whose passing away brought together people in a way not seen in recent history, transcending regional and religious identities. Flex boards bearing his face, a quote and a few words from the local folks popped up at every street corner in Chennai. It is difficult to imagine such a genuine show of love and respect for an individual without caste, cash or Dravidian party affiliations in Tamil Nadu. An inspiring story of a truly simple man that stood really tall among the politicians. It was also sad to see that it quickly went from a natural outpouring of respect to the "right" thing to do. Many commercial establishments jumped on to the Kalam-grief bandwagon and started placing the token Kalam picture by the entrance only to not be left out.
MTC - Pallavan in a new garb
Forget the brand new Chennai Metro. I took a ride in an MTC (the erstwhile Pallavan) bus. From Vadapalani to Adayar. In a throw back to the olden days, I boarded it not at a bus stop, but in running at a busy intersection. But I stuck out rather starkly from the regulars that day. And how! For starters, I was in shorts and a t-shirt - a definite give away that I was truly not a regular patron. I had in my hand a black helmet. Stuffed with sweets and savories from Gowri Shankar (Chennai's best wheat halwa and sonpapdi maker to date!) And I was clutching a pink ladies' purse on the other. And I misheard the fare as Rs. 70 and without batting an eyelid, handed the conductor a hundred rupee note when he had actually asked for Rs 17. So. Out. Of. Touch. The conductor now has a device for ticketing but still doesn't go to the passengers to issue tickets. Old wine in a new bottle anyone?
Mysore - the clean thorn in my flesh
This city, where from hails my wife, was announced as the cleanest in India's swachh Bharat campaign. People that made the announcement obviously didn't marry a dyed-in-the-wool Mysorean udugi. For someone that already had her nose in the air when it came to matters concerning general cleanliness and hygiene in public places between the two cities, this announcement making it official (across all of India) made her float on air. Oh the ribbing that I had to endure in both Mysore and Chennai! Especially when the train was just pulling into the northern outskirts of Chennai. Ouch! My only feeble come back? I could recharge my mobile internet dongle at 11:30pm in singara Chennai and not in heritage Mysuru. Aha!
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