Wednesday, August 30, 2017

The Madras I know

Photo Courtesy: Prabhu Kalidas


Madras is Hotel Excellent that serves delicious biriyani till 12 midnight. Madras is Hotel Mathsya that serves bland dosas till 2 am. Madras is Hotel Zum Zum that home delivers biriyani even during heavy rains. Madras is the window bajji shop near Kapaleeswarar temple. Madras is Fruit Shop at Greams Road that serves thick juices where waiters accept no tips. Madras is Agarwal Bhavan where you get thick lassi and spicy samosas. Madras is Hotel Saravana Bhavan where only coffee is palatable and when you are not satisfied with the sugar, temperature or whatever, they give you a new coffee without a question.


Madras is its auto men who never put meter. Madras is its auto men at the local stands whom you trust more than Ola. Madras is where you learn never to start a conversation with the automan because when you start one, he never stops.


Madras is the busy buses in the peak hours akin to the ones that carried Jews to the concentration camps. (Thanks - Charu Nivedita). Madras is the buses that stop wherever you wave hands, after a late night show.


Madras is the uninhabited Mass Rapid Transport System stations. Madras is the women who eat tiffin in the morning and weave flowers in the evenings, all in the jostling local train.


Madras is first day first show at Satyam. Madas is the popcorn at Satyam.


Madras is Parrys where you get everything from a hairpin to a dildo. Madras is that human ocean in Parrys, which you will see in your hometown only on Deepavali’s eve.


Madras is Santhome, where Charu Nivedita resides. Madras is the Kaviko Hall, where you attend literary meetings. Madras is those little nondescript restaurants that I explore all by myself, or with Charu Nivedita, Selvakumar or Subramanian.


Madras is the treeless Old Mahabalipuram Road. Madras is the irritation you get, when someone residing at Sholinganallur believes he lives in Madras.


Madras is Hotel Hameedia that served tasty biryanis for sixty years but closed its doors recently. Madras is Hotel Samco that did not close doors but got ‘renovated’ just to serve non-palatable biriyani.


Madras is where you never eat an idli, because it is not what it is.


Madras is those loyal patients who insist getting treated from you at Tondiarpet, even after they migrated to Guduvanchery. Madras is those drunkard patients on Aadi month, on new year eve's, Saturday nights and Sunday afternoons.


Happy Madras Day!


PS: Thanks, Baradwaj Rangan for the inspiration to this article. https://baradwajrangan.wordpress.com/2014/08/16/my-favourite-madras-things/

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Marginal Man

Image may contain: drawing

The maid was saying this today. Her husband is a drunkard. Her three daughters were married before they were nineteen. She declared fifteen sovereigns as dowry for the third daughter but could give only twelve sovereigns during marriage. Her only son, 27, is employed in a BPO with a meagre ten thousand rupees a month. She expects her son to give her money to buy three more sovereigns. The son argues, rightly so, how much can he give, as he has already given much of his savings during the marriage of the earlier siblings.

Charu Nivedita, in his Marginal Man (Exile in Tamil), has written a similar, more intense depiction of this event. I feel what makes Marginal Man so intense is it is more rooted and it's a much honest depiction of the Indian life.