Madras Yenga Madras…

Madras Yenga Madras…

Every year for Madras Day I do a blog post on the city I grew up in and lived for a majority of my life. Having had my entire life turned topsy-turvy recently (in a good way) I was noticeably reluctant to do one this year as I am pretty badly exhausted by the time I get home from work and sitting down in front of the computer to type sounds less and less appealing as the days pass by. But enough of that. My blogger friend Susan Deborah has initiated a blog theme on “what I would like to change in madras” and she has provided me the much needed spark to park my butt down and type this post. 

So what would I like to change in madras? Well, off-hand I would say “nothing at all, the city’s fine as it is”. But that sounds too glib, doesn’t it?  On further reflection I do find that there is one thing I would love to change in madras, but more about that later in the post. Right now as part of madras day celebrations I would like to record for posterity (hahahha….feel free to laugh too- at my expense) a few unforgettable landmarks of my childhood days – which are now in the unique peril of being forgotten by everyone except a certain generation who grew up in the madras of those times. 

I would like to record my remembrances here of a few places like: 

Maskanchavadi – also known as Koli market (Chicken market)colloquially, it was THE place to go to buy a pet, any pet you fancy- right from a cockatoo, an angora rabbit, love birds, mynah birds,  any kinda bird or dog or animal you fancy- you name it and the dealers there could procure it for you. The maskanchavadi market was at a tri-street junction off Broadway, right opposite the old Broadway theatre building and it used to function on Sunday mornings- when the crowds came from everywhere to just look around the menagerie. But repeated raids by our efficient local police force to check for illegal/rare bird selling businesses has driven down the entire market to death and it now exists as a paltry few shops selling broiler chicken for the table. Times move on and what was once considered commonplace- now resides in memory as a quaint old place.

Satti-Panai Kadai – right off koli market as you keep moving towards the interior of Broadway you run smack into the Pots and Pans market- where once people who cooked exclusively in earthenware pans and drank water off mud pots used to come to buy the stuff. Now that the market has shifted to aluminum and eversilver (stainless steel) cookware the pots and pans of earthenware have died a natural death and returned to earth (so to say).

Roundu-Kuzhai- As the name indicates it was a big rotunda with a municipal pump bang right in the middle of it all with various streets branching off in all directions. It was situated off Mint Street and connected most of the other streets parallel to mint street in one single place. People used to give address locations as “you know round kozha? Take the 2^nd right….etc” in the pre-Google maps era. The area was also notorious for being the place where most riots started and you often learnt that some political party or the other had declared a bandh/hartal when the stones started flying around the roundu kozha area.

Broadway Theatre/Padmanabha Theatre/Prabhat Theatre/Murugan Talkies- none of which exist as theatres now but places where a lot of film history was made. In the end of their cycle as viable entities going to murugan was often synonymous with going to watch a bit-film….you know the ones where in the midst of a normal/boring movie they insert a little pornographic slide or two just to wake up sleepy audiences? That’s what I mean…Murugan along with Parangimalai Jothi theatre was the pre internet era’s easy access porno knowledge providers to a whole generation of boys growing up without official sex-ed.

Krishnappa Naicken Tank Agraharam- would you believe an honest to god kumbakonam style agraharam (a brahmin community only) kind of locality in the midst of busy Broadway? Yeah, it existed once- situated roundabout krishnappa’s tank- in concentric streets off the tank area.

Finally Diamond Tea Stall- the place where boys turned into men- the fag end of Mint Street right opposite mint bus terminus- this was THE hangout spot for all the rowdies and roughnecks of GT area- where awestruck people used to point them out as celebrities. The language was all pukka madras bhashai – starting with kasmalam and asking about nenjullu erukkara manja soru. And dress code? Strictly Lungi…pants were for sissies.

I could go on and on…but what the point? These places even though they no longer exist physically still stay on as evergreen memories in all long term residents of George Town area. 

And oh about the changing madras thing? I would of course like to change madras’s politicinas – the ones who didn’t hesitate to jettison the wonderful old name madras for chennai under the guise of langauge pride in the hopes of a few paltry extra votes.
 

Sight-seeing....on a Rainy day.

(Discalimer :Parental Alert- you have to be 18 years and above to read the contents of this post. All Characters/names and incidents are purely imaginative and a work of fiction. Read at your own Risk)

Madras where I live has a very brief rainy season- it lasts at the most a couple of weeks. And hence when the rains finally turn up- we have learnt to enjoy it to the full. One of the greatest pleasures of a damp and rainy day is to curl up in bed with a spine-chilling horror novel- one of the old classics would do fine. If you really have to go out on a rainy day....I prefer to travel in the car with all windows closed. Thats because the rains have a peculiar effect on me- they make me very horny- especially when I am commuting in the city and on all the roads, wherever I look, there are happy couples going about on motorbikes, the girls sitting behind with wet clothes and draped on the guys like a close fitting garment- suggesting all sorts of things to my fertile imagination....HA! the travails of being a Single Male......

My dad, on the other hand has certain peculiar ideas of how to spend time on a rainy sunday morning- regardless of my protestations at being denied my usual sunday-sleep-a-thon. He wanted me to go see a girl- the usual girl-seeing ceremony- early on a sunday morning. This was the first I had heard about it- and when I asked him for details- he replied curtly (in his usual way)- the horoscopes had matched and if I wanted to see the girl- I had to get ready and come in person, 'cause they werent handing out any photographs of the girl, they were very traditional.

And so we went, all three of us (plus the driver)....my mom jabbering at how I always seemed to choose the worst possible dress to wear to girl-seeing- out of my entire wardrobe. I gradually tuned out my mother’s droning and looked out the window -just as a sleek and slim female body slid by my slow moving car in a flash; accelerating smoothly past, on a Honda Activa bike, raising my lust quotient up by a hundredfold in an instant and just as I glared hard in her direction she had melted into the rain-fed distance leaving me with an instant hard-on, which I had to get rid of, as soon as possible. For, just think of the questions on the brides family’s mind if the groom turned up for the girl-seeing ceremony with a humongous erection clearly visible in his all-too tight pants; as my mom insisted that I always wear the smallest sized pants I had- to minimize the size of my waist which to put it mildly - was a sign of my growing prosperity and professional success…I shook my head to clear that girl on the bike but couldn’t get rid of her. If the world was coming to an end by 2012 as the climate change people kept screaming, that was the kind of female body I wanted to spend the end of days with..

Anyway, we finally reached Tiruvanmiyur and alighted at the girls house, with the confirmation being a plaque reading "Dr.V******, Prof (retd) Veternary college, Chennai". They were waiting out at the door- the parents of the girl. The girl's father seemed a decent sort, a short, skinny guy - but totally mismatched by his wife...she was tall, fair and an absolutely well-preserved lady in her early forties. If aunty was any indication- the girl must be a stunner, I thought, my hopes soaring with every second. And then we were invited inside and seated on a low comfortable sofa in the drawing room by the girls mother. As the elders exchanged pleasantries on nothing, I leant back and waited with bated breath -for the ordeal to start. And then like a breath of fresh air- a tall, slim, sexy, beautiful girl in a simple salwar, with minimal jewellery and absolutely no make-up, wafted in with a plate of eatables and went about distributing it to everyone in the room.

So, this divinity was who I had to come to see? I felt a thump in my heart as I stared star-struck at her and she handed over to me a plate of sweets and savouries. My hand shook as I reached out to accept the plate from her and as I accidentally touched a finger of hers, an electric current shot through me. And as she handed it over she glanced at me and gave me a smile. It wasn’t a coy, half-smile, it was a full-on beaming grin. Maybe she was just amused at my reaction on seeing her – the way I was salivating in her presence. But of course, I couldn’t help it, she was that beautiful. As she finished serving everyone and moved on into the house I leant back with a shame-faced grin on my face. This, this, was the moment I had been looking for. This was my ideal match for marriage. That sweet smile playing on her lips as she handed my plate, that meaningful look in her doe-like eyes, that, oh so, innocently contrived touching of feathers, everything indicated her approval of me. I was in heaven. If I had a mangalsutra in my hands right then, I was ready to tie it on her neck at that very instant.

And then tragedy struck- by the un-looked for entrance of yet another girl, who came and sat in the chair right opposite us. I made the connection immediately- this was the original piece, the girl I had come to see, the other must have been a servant maid. Tall and well built ( a bit too much) this girl was clad in the proper dress- the traditional Kanchevaram silk Saree, heavily draped with jewels, and had a thick coating of make-up which just coudnt hide the fact that she was a little (to put it mildly) mature and manly, with a forbidding expression on her face- as if she hated the very thought of this ceremony. 

My head was all in a whirl. I felt like I had been double punched by Mike Tyson and Evander Holyfield in tandem. And I could feel the Titanic of my Love slowly sinking beneath the cold waters of the Atlantic, after having crashed on this ice-berg sitting opposite me. And then my mother had her usual "oops" moment. My mom had been busy in a discussion with aunty, who was sitting on the other side of her. And now she turned around to the girl in front and asked "Is this your elder daughter? how many kids does she have and what does her husband do?" ....... The silence which followed this question must have lasted for mere seconds but felt like eons as I sat there cringing at my mothers statement. She had made the fundamental but unpardonable mistake of confusing the two girls, but all I could hear - were the sound of those airliners crashing into the Twin towers of my life.

 And then the girl's father started protesting volubly “No, no this is Subashini the girl you have come to see, she is working at Sify Communications as a networking engineer....The other one who came first is my younger daughter Sushmitha, she is very young, she is just doing her final year engineering in Rajalakshmi engineering college”. My mother immediately realized her mistake but nevertheless ploughed on blustering bravely “Sorry, I didn’t see the photo- you didn’t send us the photos- so we couldn’t recognize the girl" . All perfectly true, but made no iota of difference to the major blunder she had made. 

I thought, I had maybe one chance to put things right- I could ask to speak to the girl in private and apologize profusely for my mother’s mistake (everything except falling at her feet if necessary). But the girl had gone in by then and her father turned down my request saying they were a very traditional family and their blasted traditions did not allow it. So we escaped out of there- with our tails between our legs- and as we travelled back- the entire car was filled with a gloomy atmosphere. My mom couldn’t bear the silence and finally blurted out in a defensively belligerent tone “What? She looked so mature didn’t she? Like a woman who had already borne children and not like an unmarried girl...." After a minute I said "Mom" in an exasperated tone "That was un-called for" She thought it over and then said "Ok,  we will go home and then call them up and apologize" My dad said at that juncture "Better to leave it alone for a couple of days and then we can call....the wound will have time to heal". So we all agreed to that.

Meanwhile i thought to myself that I would have to lie low for the next couple of weeks, change my route and so on- to avoid the contract -killers that girl was sure to hire to get me......

The things my parents do......and the problems they get me into....

A Slip- in my Non-Existent Fashion Knowlege?

Spent an interesting hour with a friend discussing High-Art. Aka Womens Fashions. Needless to mention that neither I nor my friend are extremely competent judges of womens wear but, hold on, let it be displayed on a female body, especially a nice and lissome lass and there is not a better connoisseur within fifty miles of the city.

The object of our discussion was that elusive and rarely visible part of a womens undergarment called colloquially "The Slip". According to the best informed sources....AKA Google search, a Slip is an essential part of the female wardrobe worn under transparent/semi-transparent/translucent/see-through garments. Although what is the point of wearing a transparent dress if you are gonna wear an opaque slip under it to cover everything up baffles understanding..But as all males, right from the one and original Adam of Paradise fame has failed to understand the workings of the female mind since time immemorial, who am I to even attempt to?

The object of attention/discussion made an unexpected appearance at the top Hang-out spot of North Madras....Abirami Mall..a Budget destination for the light pursed citizens of North Chennai..who unlike the Spencers and Inox crowd prefer to hang out in family-sized groups ranging from a minimum of 15 to 40 or more family- outing groups. This naturally makes those Brave hearted (or foolhardy?) romantic couples who brave the heat to venture into Abirami Mall - a part of the local sight-seeing attraction as entire families stand around and Gawk at the poor unfortunate couples....sometimes I am sorely tempted to stand up, wave and start handing out autographs the next time a family group stares at me as if I am a leftover of one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

In such a crowd did I spot the elusive whitish garment and pointing it out to my friend commented derisively that women will never learn to match undergarments with upper...confident in the knowledge that who after all is going to notice? forgetting the existence of Eagle-Eyes like self and friend. My friend with infinitely more experience and close aquaintance with womens underclothing not only corrected my mistake that it was a B** and identified it as a "SLIP"..the purpose of which he failed to explain and wanted me to learn from that infallible authority -Google.

All afire from a desire to learn the purpose of a garment which from all intents and purposes fails to satisfy its primary requirment..ie to shield its wearer from prying eyes but on the contrary enhanced the awesome figure and shape of the girl wearing it- I hurried home and went on to Google Search where I was offered a variety of those garments in different colours and styles from on-line stores which offered to ship them to me within 48 hours. I politely declined the offer as I could envision no circumstance under which I would be wanting to wear a slip right now...but in the future who knows? I might have to acquire a few of the same for my wife (post-marriage- whenever it happens) and other assorted women of my life....

So finally my knowledge of Female Fashions has increased by approximately one item...THE SLIP. and I am storing it up for future use.....