Oct 2007 – Singara chennaiyil Sila natkal

Madras had been tucked away at the back of my memory bank since Aug 1990, when for the first time I left the city for a significant period of time. Since then I have never been back for more than 20 days at a stretch. 17 years later I return for a full 68 days of stay in singara Chennai.

Much more has changed than the name.

As a passing visitor over the years, I never had time to take in the city over long walks, lengthy bus rides, narrow alleys with never ending array of small shops and eateries. My trips were mostly spent visiting relatives, a trip to Spencers and nothing more. Now with time on my hand I was fully determined to explore my Madras.

For starters the weather could not have been nicer. Imagine 25 to 28 degrees with a breeze through out the day, cloudy skies most of the time. It was a boon.

My days began with a morning walk, my departure varying between 6-am and 8-am in the morning typically for an hour. I chose this time based on traffic or the lack of it even if it meant I had to get up earlier than my habits allow. The city wakes up slowly. My neighborhood is T.Nagar near Venkatanarayana road. This is kind of a residential oasis amidst one of the busiest commercial localities in Chennai, ensconced between Usman road, Pondy Bazaar and Mount Road.

My street leads into Venkatanarayana road on one side and Dhandapani St. on the other. I typically let my feet choose the direction on any given day. Dhandapani street is “one way” or I should say close to “one way” traffic since I was surprised on many an occasion by an auto or a bike brushing me close, going the wrong way. Worse, I get a glare from the offender.  This road is now a main road, meaning buses and heavy vehicles are allowed in addition to traditional traffic. Now when I say traditional traffic I refer to four wheelers like cars, cows and stray dogs, three wheelers like autos and light cargo bicycles that have 2 wheels in front and one at the back and two wheelers that are motorized( bikes) and terrorized(bicycles and pedestrians). I am yet to see some one on a unicycle.

Not many are around in the early morning hours except for the stray dogs, early risers who are just finishing their ablutions by the side of the road, newspaper-boys and yeah street cleaners! I have to mention that the city roads now have garbage bins and women staff to clean most of the streets everyday. There are garbage trucks too. The process flow from the point the garbage originates to the time it reaches its destination is quite involved. Most things in India, I realized, has to involve a lot of labor. Let me digress a bit to explain this process.

Typically each household has a small garbage bin in their house or apartment. Most houses have a servant maid who is responsible for collecting the house garbage and then dumping it into the bins on the street. These bins are kept at a distance of approximately 50-70 feet on each street. Now it is interesting that many residents do not like these bins right in front of their houses and hence each house/apartment takes their turn to keep the bin on the street in front of their house.  The ratio of houses/apartments to bins is variable and true to form, the bins are not really based on the density of population in a locality. Hence the bins are constantly overflowing and the overflow is on the street. I noticed in many localities that even when the bin was half full, the garbage on the street far outweighed the garbage inside the bin. I soon realized there were many reasons for this. Sometimes it depends on the projectile angle at which it is thrown from an apartment. While we cannot expect mere housemaids to throw garbage bags with Azharuddin’s accuracy into the bins, it does not account for strewn paper bags, plantain leafs, vegetable remains, sambar and other food items by the side of the bins. This, as you may imagine, depends on the whether a garbage bag thus thrown is tied properly to keep its contents intact during the projectile motion.

On the days when the bags are thrown with enough accuracy there are other factors that cause the displacement of crap from the bin to the street. I realized that there is a market for plastic bags and when there is a market there are people around looking to make a buck from it. So, frequently, you would see 3 or 4 people around the bin, picking paper and plastic from the bin and throwing what is not recyclable outside the bin!

And so garbage piles in and out of the bin. It did take a while for me to walk around the crap with its smell but by day 20 i was weaving and bobbing amidst the garbage. Its a pain when it rains though. I don’t know about you, the reader, but  I do have an aversion for dissolved garbage especially if its on the streets.

Anyways, we were talking about the process for garbage disposal. Once the garbage gets out of the house and into the bins or the street, it is left to the women in green every morning to clean it all up. And there are quite a few of them every morning diligently gathering up the street crap and emptying them into the bins. Now you may ask what do they do if the bins are full. They do part of the job – that is, they gather all the strewn garbage into a small pile on the street and leave it there for the next day.

Finally with the garbage trucks – which I realized comes in many sizes and shapes, some covered and some open – the crap does get cleared for the most part eventually.

I guess I have covered a lot of garbage so lets move on.

Most shops are shuttered at the early hour and open only around 9 or 10 AM. The ones that are open are newspaper stands, tea and coffee stalls and in Pondy Bazaar, the flower shops. These flower shops are a great treat for the eye and the nose, balancing out the morning cleanup smell. An array of garlands in bright yellow, interspersed with pink roses and green leaves adorn the facade of over 20 shops. The shops are busy with people weaving more, as the completed garlands are hung for display.

The front porch or platform of some the shuttered shops are home to people who use a plastic canvas to cover themselves for a nap overnight. Some are still asleep wrapped in a blue or white tarpaulin. For those who have not been to Pondy Bazaar some detail is due here to explain the arrangement of shops. The area known as Pondy Bazaar is a tree lined 100 feet road some 3 km in length leading from Panagal park on one end to Mount road on the other. The road has a rich assortment of shops mostly selling apparel.  Now, the pavement in front of the shops is about 10 feet. Historically the pavement has been occupied by makeshift hawkers who sell all kinds of assorted items ranging from inner garments, toys, trinkets and dress accessories. These makeshift shops are put up everyday. At night the vendors pack up their makeshift shops with plastic canvas, tie them up on all sides with a coir rope and leave it right there on the pavement.

Most of the days I walk past their “wrapped” up shops neatly arranged side by side while their owners are still asleep wrapped in a similar way on the foot steps of the real shops.

My foot journey takes me from Pondy Bazaar to GN Chetty road through Dr Nair Road. As I walked past the Holy Angels convent school I realized I was traversing the route that I used to take for several years going by bus from T Nagar to Nungambakkam. At the corner of Pondy Bazaar and just before turning into Dr Nair road is a small roadside Vinayaka temple and its still in the same place with the same dimensions. Right across on the other side of Dr Nair road is this Holy Angels convent,  a girls only school that spans a huge area with multi storied buildings and an array of trees all secluded by a compound wall( concrete fence for the rest of you). I could not help but contrast my son’s school in Palo Alto, a forgettable one storey medley of unimaginative buildings. As I walked past the small temple, I remembered the numerous times I had prayed to that little street Vinayaka – managing a quick movement of my hand to my eyes and mouth in a gesture of god worship as I travelled by bus to school from T Nagar to Nungambakkam. This gesture was especially important during exam days for I was scared that Lord Vinayaka would desert me and my memories. Traveling by PTC( Pallavan Transport Corporation) bus was fun but then in those days, we had to carry a multi kilo backpack bag of books hung on our shoulders and invariably had to stand all the way to school. As the bus neared the temple I would get ready to squeeze my head through the bodies around me, looking out the window at the roadside Vinayaka, one hand on the support to stand steady while the other did its god duty.

I never gave much thought to these roadside temples but now they are all over. One in every street almost. Mostly they spring up when someone brings in a deity – typically a black stone idol of ganesha or durga mostly but by no means are other gods spared. Soon other structures such as a sanctum and a fence are erected sometimes encroaching the road itself. At any time of the day there are a few people in many of these temples, some praying others possibly hanging out. Bicycles and bikes slow down so their riders can offer prayers. Everything slows down at this point since traffic has to weave around all these people and vehicles milled around the little temple. I also noticed that many of these temples have become an economic zone by themselves. Business follows areas that people frequent and so around the temple you can see 3 or 4 women hawkers with their tray of flowers – jasmine of various forms. They squat on the pavement on either side of the temple. In some places vegetable vendors sit along side providing a one stop shop for the devotee.

I make my way along Dr Nair road. All this while I diligently try to walk on the pavement. But you know its hard. Its truly a “foot”path since its a foot high! Imagine having to get up and down a one-foot high elevated pavement. I would rather walk on the road. You may ask as to why I need to get up and down and this dear reader is an experience in itself. Every house has a small driveway leading up to the gate and there is no pavement in front of the houses. The Pavement is made of square cement stones each probably a foot in length. They are typically aligned very badly that you have to really watch your foot! Most pavements have shops and temples and invariably the roadside mobile food stall! All of these stand in my way and I soon realized I am better off walking on the road like thousands of others who are part of the road traffic.

I guess the discerning reader would wonder as to how fast-moving vehicles can cope with pedestrians who occupy part of a busy road. Simple…they negotiate. Every vehicle produces a variety of “horn tones” otherwise known as honking. These tones warn the pedestrian or the vehicle in front of impending overtaking by the driver. However most of the time the traffic reduces to the speed of the slowest moving object. Poor laborers, transport simple cargo such as bundles or cloth or vegetables in three wheeled carts. These carts share the same roads as buses and cars. Many roads while 80 to 100 feet in length have less than 50-feet for actual road traffic. Even out of the 50 feet, the pedestrians, haphazardly parked vehicles and many other man made obstructions reduce 10 feet each way. The remaining road space allows 2 lanes although lane traffic is unheard of in the city. The rule in general is if you get your vehicles’ nose before the other person as you weave through traffic then you have the right of way. No one stops for anything. The yellow autos have a separate rule book. They can turn on the dime and zip between vehicles with such abandon that it does feel like a theme-park ride. The price too. Autos drivers in chennai are free market capitalists ebay style. The fare is not fixed and is determined by negotiation. There is a band depending on distance but the price you pay to travel by an auto depends on so many factors – time of day, construction, festival season, your appearance, where you board, what you carry, how desperate you seem and a myriad of other subtle factors. Its a market in itself. Such price determination is always detrimental to the lower middle class. The price is set by the upper middle class and there are enough of them to bear the price set by the auto drivers that there is no incentive to charge less. And so the band plays on.

But I digress. As the city is just waking up from its slumber there are no such traffic issues and the road is mostly clear. By 8 am, things start picking up. Many roads have mobile food stalls. These are carts that are rectangular in shape, about 7 feet in length and 4 feet in width. This rectangular base is covered like a pop corn cart. It also has 4 wheels much like any food cart you see in theme parks. Typically on either side of the cart there are cooking ranges. These are really commercial quality griddles measuring about 3 to 4 feet in length and 2 feet in width. These are lit by LPG ( Liquified Petroleum Gas) cylinders that sit right next to the griddle. On one side of the cart is a big vessel filled with steaming idlis. On another side a pan is simmering on a stove with oil ready for the “bajjis”. The batter for the bajjis is filled to the brim in a wide bodied vessel. Cut plantains and onions are on a tray. Behind  the cart a young boy is busy cutting more plantains while an elderly man wipes the girdle and prepares it for making dosais. On another stove the next batch of idlis are getting ready presumably. The crowd around the cart by now numbers 10 or 12. They take the food in a small paper plate, balance it on one hand and eat with the other. The gentleman in the dhoti finishes his breakfast and picks up a mug and dips it into the bucket nearby filled with water. He then walks to the edge of the pavement and washes his hands. After this he lifts up the mug over his head pours some water in his mouth gargles and spits out with a bzzzzz sound. The water splashes by the pavement as he passes the mug to another person nearby and this ablution continues.

I continue on past PSBB(Padma Seshadri Bala Bhavan) my alma mater, my school that shaped me, and typically take a left turn on Habibullah road and walk all the way to Usman road. This is quiet stretch for the most part until I reach Usman road. I watched the routine of a family going through its morning chores. This is the reality show of urban India. Right in front of Kodambakkam Post Office is a stretch of pavement that is occupied by squatters. So many of them, encompassing all age groups from a new born to 80. Male and female. I see a woman stoke up the stove and boil milk with a baby in her hips, the baby is wailing while an elderly man squats near the pavement with a Tamil news paper in hand. I see a young boy carrying a bucket of water and place it near the stove. A few people are still asleep wrapped in newspaper. There is a middle aged person with his dhoti barely hanging on his hip, his hands in agitated motion and vague loud sounds foaming out of his mouth seemingly directed at no one and no one seemed to be bothered about him. A bunch of kids were brushing their teeth with what looked like tooth brushes. A few people were attending nature’s call not far away. It all appeared very busy as they went about their morning chores oblivious to the just awakening world. Everyday I pass by and in those few moments a million thoughts go through my head…why them, what did they do to deserve a public life with no shelter. I can see 300 million of them, dark faces with darkened lives, destitute yet determined. Sometimes I cannot bear to look and turn around and there in the shining glass of the multi-storey building I see their reflection. A reflection of abject poverty on the glass panes of shining India. My belief in free market capitalism is shaken as I stand exposed with no answers on why there should be such stark inequalities in a 100 sqft space. Where did they go wrong? Where did we go wrong? Who is responsible, how can this be fixed? What can I do?

The bleep of a passing motor bike brings me back to fantasy land. I walk on, ignoring the reality. As I turn left on Usman road I see the IT buses from TCS, Cognizant and others carrying the elite to their walled gardens. By now the bus stops are getting pregnant with people filling out to the roads, leaning forward awaiting their buses. The middle class has started its mundane day.  I pass the brand new gleaming GRT Thanga Maligai just before Panagal Park, 10 security personnel in blue keeping guard. A few senior citizens in well worn dhotis and bright white adidas shoes have just finished their morning ambulations at Panagal Park. They step into the newly registered Toyota Inova and the doors and tinted windows close behind them. A middle aged mami waves “poitu varen” to a friend and says “Ponnu kooptirukka, adutha varam kilambaren…”.

As I approach the last leg through Venkatanarayana road, I see the gleaming 3 new buildings – a poster child of the new Chennai. Vibrant, busy, new. Further down beyond the corporation ground is the Tirupathi Devastanam temple. Devotees flow out of the temple to the road on busy days. Outside are flower and fruit vendors squatted on small stools, their wares on a smaller tray. Besides them quite a few beggars sit on the road some with arms outstretched and some without arms. The rhythmic chants echo from the temple and dissolve into the cacophony of voices and traffic. People passing by stop in front and glimpse at the lord and make their morning requests. The call center and the carnatic crowd, corpulent corporate types and the suffering socialists, the agnostic and ardent devotees, the busy, the beggarly , the bored all call this new Chennai their home.

I turn right into my street and head home. Or should i say my parent’s home?

-sd