Welcome Home!

I had an epiphany yesterday. A complete stranger caught up with me to ask if I had just moved to Chennai and when I clarified my residential status, he beamed and said " Welcome home then!"

I hadn't realized this on my own and needed reminding from a stranger. I am BACK home-Madras (Chennai) and it is only just hitting me. After six years of being away and living out of suitcases, and living in interesting share houses, I have finally come back to my home, my family and my friends.

Feels like I have come full circle....

'It was a city of ponds and lakes?'

Mr.Vaidheeswaran's interview on Old Madras in Metro Plus was a real treat to us youngsters. Having been brought up in a very different Madras to the one he describes, I am intrigued to know how the city looked back in the day. I have been a resident of Besant Nagar ever since I came into existence and my life revolves around certain parts of the Elliots Beach, Adyar (on account of my educational institution) and maybe Nungambakkam (once in a while).

My paternal great-grandfather was apparently an influential man and owned a lot of property on C.P.Ramaswamy road- the Rasi building and surroundings to be precise. Born several decades later, I missed out on these old properties and have become accustomed to my maternal side's reliable housing board flats. So Besant Nagar to me became something like Swami's Malgudi.

The first time I heard about Fort St.George (which should have rightfully been in History class) was from a German friend. Embarrassed that a foreigner had to tell me about my own hometown, I ventured to North Madras in 2004 to volunteer in a shelter home for street kids in Tondiarpet. 6D was my vehicle as it wound down Beach road, Madras Port, Fort St.George....till it dropped me off at my desired stop. In fact, I was so excited to have made it through to 6D's last stop at Toll Gate once. I was, however, expecting to see a massive Gate leftover from colonial times but had to be satisfied with the bus stop's signboard.

For my generation, the suburbs of Madras have forever been associated with popular hangout spots. Mylapore-Saravana Bhavan, Nungambakkam-Ispahani Centre, Mount Road-Spencer Plaza and Marina Beach with Citi Centre. While my Patti would describe the Grand Old Music Sabhas in the backstreets of Mylapore, my only reference point is Idlys in Saravana or the Korathi beads I can pick up off the street vendors.

Now that the weather is getting a little bit bearable-I am wondering if I should sign up to volunteer in Anna Nagar so I get to see a little bit more of Pazhaya Madras.

The Curious Case of Monkey-Boy

Indian festivals apart from being noisy and colourful succeed in stripping you off any extra cash you had stashed away under your pillow. The frequent visitors (not including family) make sure that you pay for everything from a clean road to an ironed shirt. I am referring to people who do their collection rounds on a Diwali weekend- from the sweeper lady, to the milk man to the watch man three streets away from your apartment. One such visitor was a young lad in his early twenties dressed as the Mighty Lord Hanuman himself.

It is not uncommon to see people dressed as Gods, singing hymns and asking for money. But it is uncommon to see an old lady telling off a God because he was getting the words of his hymn absolutely wrong. This old lady was my dear old Grandmother. While my Grandfather will have NONE of it when it comes to giving people money for their tuneless songs, my grandmother loves to collect Rs.2 coins just for such occasions. What happened that morning was quite amusing for everyone around except maybe for the Lord himself.

"Gurur Brahma, Gurur Vishnu.............."

A deep voice sung the Gurur Brahma hymn a couple of blocks away. As the voice grew louder and approached our ground-floor apartment, my grandmother's ears perked up as she collected her coin and made for the door. She called out to the the monkey-boy dressed in his finery (from my perch at the window, his costume looked quite impressive). She then asked him to repeat his slokas slowly several times (as if he was on detention) and then proceeded to let him know he had got most of it wrong. The poor lad's painted face turned a deeper shade of pink as he stammered something and ran for his life with his tail between his legs...

Having successfully hurt the Lord's feelings I wondered if he had climbed a tree to sulk for the rest of the afternoon?

Happy Deepavali!

Development Talk-A Luxury Good

In economics, a luxury good is one for which demand increases more than proportionally as income rises i.e. these are goods that are perceived as luxurious by the public simply because they play the role of a status symbol. This definition may include only materialistic (manufactured) goods.

I think it should include our everyday development talks that we find on our news channels, radio shows and even in the privacy of our own living room. The 'our' here relates to an average middle to higher income Indian household who happen to have such conversations. Having grown up in what my grandfather likes to call a liberal family- I have been exposed to several such conversations and have initiated a few myself. In the era of technological advancement, these discussions are not confined to face-to-face interactions but have crossed over to cyber space. Through Twitter, Facebook and Blogs we let the world know how we really feel about the 'plight of the poor'

Is it all just talk (or Tweets)?

It seems so, while we all sit around discussing their plight (because our education allows it) the poor are out there living it. I do not understand this need to typecast deprived citizens of our country as a collective mass called 'poor' -who need rescuing. I am trying to figure out the motives behind people engaged in development work- an experiment to aid an academic paper? A feeling of satisfaction? Or because they genuinely care?

While I ponder over my own decisions to enter the development sector- I would like to say this blog and these words are indeed a luxury good, the demand for which increases as education increases.