Trip To Madras

Stepping down from the AC coach on to the railway platform A hot wave of salty moist air drenches me On my customary visit to this city I'm tethered to by my memories.. She coyly calls herself Chennai like a new bride renamed in her husband's home At heart though she is still Madras and to the likes of me ; It's a relief to slip into my mother tongue to bargain with the auto walla after mouthing words for months together in an alien tongue.. We slice through the dense traffic As I nod distractedly to the driver's political soliloquy While my eyes search for familiar landmarks that were part of my youth Moore market Poppat Jamal Saphire theatre Gemini flyover; the city rushes by a phantasmagoria of urban scenes until the fragrance of panneer roses attack my nostrils as I watch flower sellers deftly spinning silver threads around thick rose garlands... The milling crowd at Pondy Bazaar with women shopping tirelessly for jewels, sarees and utensils.. Saravana bhavan coming to the rescue of their cravings for sambhar vada or bhelpuri.... I quickly make a mental list of goods to take back when I return-- Coffee powder baby mangoes mor milagai ambika appalam not to forget a visit to the Naidu Hall.. The bottle neck at Panagal park a hub for matrimonial shopping slows down my journey, then a familiar slide down the doraiswamy subway and a furlong along the railway tracks I alight in mambalam where my mother awaits with open arms; A week's time for me to imbibe the city's moods.. to gaze at cawing ravens on neem trees to discuss the story line of soaps on TV to inhale the simple aromas of brahmin meals Before I bid farewell to it temporarily