My Madras Week

A burqa-clad girl singing rock, a young lady talking about clamps on Vishnu’s heart, and a walk where my landmark to the auto driver was worse than “Thiruppathi’la mottai thatha.” Oh, and I forget: steamy scandals of MK Thyagaraja Bhagavathar.

That sums up (some of) what I caught during Madras Week. It’s an awesome idea, and restaurants, newspapers, and marketers have caught on to what they think is a great money-spinning idea, coming right after Aadi. Let’s not forget that many of Madras Week events, by themselves, are free to the public, and a great way to get to know the city of Chennai.

Before I forget: the scandals were a reference to the talk by Randor Guy. It was packed to capacity. The scandals were not all that many—proof again that scandals and affairs sell. It was held at a place called the Madras Terrace House in Royapettah. The house seemed like a renovated Madras home with clay tiles and framed photographs of cinestars of yesteryears. It all looked good, but seemed to try too much to be antique, if you know what I mean. The talk itself was too short for the vast history that I thought he would cover. But it was a lot of fun, and I thought the Raja Sando character was too colourful—where can I get more info on him?

Anyway, there were five photowalks organized by the wonderfully enthusiastic Chandrachoodan Gopalakrishnan during the week. I caught the last part of the one inside the Southern Railway Headquarters, and some of the one on Mint Street. Here is where we were asked to congregate near the Jain Temple. It turns out that every other building on Mint Street is a Jain temple (although the biggest one was really big). I promptly got off at the first one, thinking it was it, and the auto driver, for obvious reasons, did not bother to correct me. My camera was kaput and I used the camera on my mobile phone, but just as a general walk, it was great!

Here are some pictures from the Railway HQs:






And here are some from the Mint Street walk:





I also attended what was billed as an evening of plays and performances on Chennai, but ended up being a string of bands (mostly college bands) belting out some numbers--covers and originals. Peter Kaapi was one of the bands, and the burqa-clad girl held my attention for a bit--she was a decent MC.



But honestly, I could not understand a word of what she sang in this song, “Asathoma Sadgamaya”!! The sloka was sung clearly and without many drum beats, but the rest, whoosh… over my head. Wasn’t even sure if it was English or Tamil. I’m partial to rap, but a duo calling themselves “Watta Bottles” came on stage, and I had a nice time listening to them. But like I say, I’m partial to rap. I didn’t have the time to stay for the whole program. BTW, this was at Alliance Francaise, and their canteen had some pretty awesome coffee/dry fruit cake.

Saturday was a busy day as I headed out to check out Chitra Madhavan’s talk on “Four Famous Temples of Chennai.” The house was packed, and surprise: snacks were part of the talk. These Heritage folks must have some major money! The talk was interesting, and I’ve resolved to attend more of her talks. Apparently, she has a monthly talk at the Musiri Chamber, 28/2, Musiri Subramaniam Rd., Mylapore, every month.

Sunday was low-key for me. Just attended part of the Madras Quiz. Learnt so much; forgot most of it! There was a nice coins, and rare books exhibition at the venue, P.S. Higher Secondary School.

I’ve decided to somehow learn more about my city through the year, not just this week! But when I was 15, I decided I'd be the CM of TN by now...

Too fast

Well, sometimes you just have to hand it to the police. For example, for working too fast!

Impossible, you say?

Listen to this: The Tamil Nadu Police have started a new service that encourages residents to SMS their complaints and public grievances. Well, we had one: the parking of lorries by a transport company on our street.

Parking per se was only part of the problem—it was the whole package that came with it: the young men who lived there, for one. They lived there—that should tell you the whole story. They bathed right on the front porch in their underwear, which had more holes than OJ’s defence; they brushed their teeth on the street, spitting toothpaste all over the pavement, so much so that it looked whitewashed; they were loud, talking on their cell phones late into the night.

But those weren’t exactly things we could call illegal. Parking on the street was.

We lived six or seven houses away—but it still affected us. And there was the problem. Forget personal space; even public spaces seem to feel the effects of overpopulation. In Chennai, more than 450 vehicles are registered EVERY day. And that’s according to 2006 estimates. So where does that leave the streets of Chennai?

Overcrowded, polluted, and cramped. And that leaves the residents in a foul mood. Add the weather into the mix, and it's a wonder Chennaiites have a sense of humour at all!

Most apartments do not consider parking space, or following the rules of construction, as essential. As a result, there is no space, apart from the road, for anything—playing, parking, walking, whatever.

What is the solution? Well, we thought that calling the police on their new SMS service might help in towing the lorries away. Only, our SMS was responded to immediately. And like an idiot, I didn’t check and see if the heavy vehicles were actually there when I SMSed the police.

I even placed a Rs. 1000 bet that the police would not come. But not more than five minutes later, a police car pulled up, in front of our house. And, dammit, the lorries were not parked on our street!

The police seemed irritated. But really, who knew they'll respond so quickly? Haven't they seen any Tamil movies at all?

The police said that parking any vehicle, on the street was illegal, not just parking lorries. So, he said, since he was already there, he’d write a challan for all the cars parked on the street. Which, of course, belonged to our neighbours. Fining them was fine by us, but that wasn’t too neighbourly and all, you see.

The police also advised us, “If you’re in danger, you know, your neighbours are the ones who will help you. We’ll be here, gone tomorrow.” Whoa! Wait a second there—back up a bit, I wanted to scream! Isn’t the police supposed to be there you’re in danger? I thought that was a big part of what the police did?

Anyway, after a lot of back and forth, and after attracting a crowd, the police went about their jobs.

And now, we’re scared that the neighbours are plotting to kill us. Maybe they’ll run us over by the lorries—that would be poetic justice. Or injustice. Whatever.

“Next time, check and see before you SMS us,” one of the policemen said. Good advice!

But anyway, here’s the number: 9500099100