Am back: Writing from Chennai

For starters, apologies to those waiting for a post from me at Writing on Sand. It's been a neat 20 days since I posted.

My world's turned topsy-turvy in the meanwhile. New City. New Culture. Newer People. I've known this city since I opened my eyes, and yet it feels like I have landed somewhere out of my world. And cry at every image I remember of those sweet Mumbai moments! Chennai. East Coast. Off East Coast Road. How does that sound?

Chennai, where if I chose to sit by myself in a bus, a respectable old man would come by, have the audacity to tell me where I `should' be sitting. If it was Mumbai, I'd have snapped at him, `Tumse matlab?''

It's Chennai, which has perceivably given such characters moral sanction to question women's choice in public spaces. After his consistent pestering, and words I get to hear like, `Looks like you are an educated woman. Why are you not listening to me?', I show him his place politely.

`Am new to this city and I feel safe in this part of the bus. I am comfortable here and am your co-passenger. If you want my seat, go ahead and take it. But stop torturing me like this.''

He is zapped some chit of a woman could talk back that way. I am equally perplexed someone had the time and cowardice to pick on a passenger!

Chennai's good side exists too! The suburb I live in, is vibrant, cosmopolitan, and yet, culturally rooted. The best part over Pongal festival was that I spent three late evenings at Elliots Beach in Besant Nagar, grooving to folk-fusion and classical-fusion beats by bands playing out as part of Chennai Sangamam.

The fire-cracker show at the end of the finale, was the best I've seen till now.

The temples, reverberating music, friendly neighbours, and some lovely local cuisine nearly make up for the civic harshness and that gnawing feeling on roads that I am watched by hungry eyes.

Yet, nothing like those precious moments at Marine Drive.