I sometimes grip the feeling that may be it’s a dream in my life, if I were to imbibe the fact that it’s been more than a year now away from my city of birth and life – ‘my singara Chennai’, we call it after the city acquired an amazing face lift a couple of years back during our amma’s first reign in the state. It’s almost the same feeling of a child missing its mother. At times I pinch myself little hard to believe if it is really true.
Not that I haven’t been there in these 15 months. I do pack my bags from Bangalore to spend a weekend once in 2-3 months to give my darshan to mom and dad. Chennai ... yup, the city’s core culture is still there in my blood.I always board the routine Bangalore - Chennai Express on a friday which departs from Bangalore city railway station late in the night around midnight. I tend to reach the station well before any co - passenger arrives during when only the abandoned lug gages and the rabies infected dogs are my company. The lady who announces the arrival and departure timings gently roars from the loud speaker near by, to add life to my silent presence in the long corridor of platform no 6, during that shivering cold hour in the night. Otherwise that is the only time when I seriously wish to give a thought to the place where I am heading to, amidst my fast moving life in Bangalore and wonder how I managed to miss people in my past life without much struggle. Then would graze an incident or two in mind that brings joy and pride in heart from my book of life, pointing to the pages of Chennai episodes. That in fact acts as a little brain storming session sitting on that lonely railway platform , thinking and rejoicing the fact that I’ll be at my home for the next two days, sure to receive a royal treatment from the moment I land there till the moment I step back in to one of the split bogie’s of the sunday night train that helps me catch my destiny back in Bangalore on monday morning. I usually draw a mental map hugging my packed bag, watching the framed sky through the length less wavy asbestos sheets from platform no 6 as what should I do for the next two days, whom should I meet, where should I go and to whom all should I ring up. But frankly stating, it seems to be a herculean task to follow my metal map drawn on friday night sitting at the city railway station.
Things never go as planned. The laziness factor in my blood generally becomesactively dominant and aggravates to the core the very next morning for the hot and humid climate of Chennai when I land there.As time disintegrates, I see my folks gathering around me waiting to board the same train, conversing in the pure unadulterated slang of my mother tongue, making me feel at home while still in Bangalore. That is the second boost that lifts my spirit up in waiting to reach my home town.When the train arrives, in 10-15 minutes my folks settle to snore at their ease. Finally around midnight the train departs as promised from Bangalore city towards Chennai Central. Third brainstorming session happens when either mom or dad calls up to confirm if I safely boarded the train in Bangalore also asking my choice for the next day’s break fast menu , leaving me in perfect hallucinations of all my favorite menu’s that mom prepares for the next two days.All set. The TTR also would have woken me up once to perform his duty. I keep telling myself, lying on the birth on my night journey“ …... next time when I wake up it will be watching the same blue sky but from Chennai, breathing the authentic odour that exclusively belongs to Chennai crossing the basin bridge junction while feeling the scintillating sticky humidness especially on my palms and in between the toe fingers which will be a perfect sign of having landed in Chennai.”Nothing unusual to my expectation, I wake up inhaling a full measure breath intake containing a mixed composition of the usual oxygen in air + sensual aroma of chennai’s basin bridge junction(which makes me feel at home with a beaming pride that my city still bags all the fragrance rights reserved )with sleep still studded on my eyes to look at the blue sky as exactly how I told myself the earlier night.In very less time after I wake up, the train crosses the BB junction and heads in to chennai central, the final destination of the train. Watching the board painted boldly in black which reads “Chennai Central “ on a yellow background is a perfect indication that I need to buckle my sandals, tie my hair and fold my jerkin and get ready to jump out of the bogie giving it a silent promise that I will board it the very next day night.
As usual, immense joy flows watching dad standing out on the crowded platform in central station. With a fresh smile on lips I approach dad with my stuffed bag and the geography wise useless jerkin. Dad acknowledges silently waving at me. Then me and dad walk together trying to get out of the maddening crowd to where he generally parks his sentimental black Kinetic Honda. Then he slowly starts enquiring about my night journey wearing his unusually large helmet on his spectacled face, portraying an earthly astronaut to my eyes which I really miss watching for the rest of days. Then me and dad start zoomingon his bike on the wide roads of Chennai. I had been traveling by the same roads every now and then until when I was there but not even once had I felt joy gushing in me like this, which I thought should be because I no longer can claim to anyone that I belong there any more. The city to my eyes look more prosperous every time I go to chennai .
Passing by the rippon building, dinathandi office, the large hoardings of Vijay &Surya that stands upright on almost all the arterial roads in Chennai, ega theatre,alsa towers, tailors road bust stop,SI building on Taylors road, and Anna Arch on the way home from central makes me quite ardent &passively more passionate towards my home town which in turn gushes a true-blue red blood through all veins in my body. It just feels nice to be a pillion rider enjoying glimpses of most missed Chennai. Driving down the road still further, there stands another big hoarding of chennai silks near the koyambedu junction with a stunning model wrapped in colorful silk, dressed in authentic tamilian way, studded with gold jewels all over with a bright and a beautiful smile on her lips with her artistic pallu occupying most of the hoarding giving a rich look to the hoarding and to the city itself. I feel refreshed to see my culture & tradition captured ona huge hoarding on a highway junction.Passing by all my favourite landmarks which had meant different things to me at different stages in life, listening to what ever update dad has for me , I keep acknowledginghim with my mm’s. Soon we reach home and there waits mom for her in-house guest.
Just an aarthi plate would be missing on most of the saturday mornings when I go home. Her face is always found gleaming with an extra hundred watts brightness seeing me open the grill gate and drop my sandals in the portico. The moment I step in I realize what have I been missing for rest of the days. The aroma that keeps whiffing out from the kitchen corner, the mantras of Adithya Hridhayam that the music system keeps reciting, my cute little subramani (teddy bear) lying orphan with none to give a cuddle ,the chime sticks dangling from the ceiling without me to create more resonance, my plant pots & books collection left untouched & having gathered enough dust.
Hmm … ‘Home sweet Home’ I keep telling mom for the next two days at least hundred odd times. Then a soup starting conversation giving mom a glimpse of what’s happening at my end and extracting from her allthe neighbor hood gossips and wide spread family flavors.Then with an intention to follow up with the happenings in Chennai I pick up the newspaper to give a quick glance of all that I missed. Half way through the pages of saturday supplements I fall asleep to catch up with the hotch potch sleep that I had the previous night in the train. The best part is none would disturb me until I wake up all by myself. Some times its afternoon and some other time its evening and very few times it’s even been late in the evening. ‘What a deep slumber have I been in , absolutely not feeling my presence on earth for a couple of hours, unlike my subtle sleep in Bangalore full of sounds’ I would think. And with no dreams to distract my sleep and almost a day gone, I realize. Mom would come with her plate filled with the second menu of the day to stuff them inside my mouth choicelessly. Half the feeding session goes silently with me trying to come out of my hangover. Then she usually looks forward for a word of appreciation from the indigenous guest at home for the special menu prepared. I acknowledge with my mmm’s as a reply, silently mincing her missing menus.Sometimes she asks me to spit the last spoon of food that she fed in for some superstitious procedure that she performs at the kitchen sink.
When it’s time for a Saturday night stroll either on terrace or at the ground, exclusively with either mom or dad depending on whom ever is keen on spending time with me. The walk always begins with a silence and slowly gathers momentum when we catch up with an interesting topic to spin the conversation. If it’s dad it’s generally regarding either of these - politics, technology, cost of living, finance or health. If it’s mom it’s mostly regarding updates from the neighbor hood happenings, or about wide family gossips.Any ways I spend quality time with both mom and dad during all my trips.During dinner time on Saturday night,sometimes my neighbour Jaishree books in advance to serve me dinner the very moment she spots me. Difficult to deny such delicious hand cooked food from the house of a Gujarati family, I have nothing but praises and compliments to give her back. After the much debated topic as what went in as the ingredients behind the food that she served us with, mom goes to bed and dadcatches up with the updates on NDTV.
Having had enough sleep during day time, I usually unwind lying on the bed in my room in darkness and silence, opening all the windows around tuning to radio in my head set settling to listen some soothing tamil melodies. I generally tend to draw silly comparisons between both the cities like Suchi here, Vasanthi there. Deva here,Fiona there.Ajay here and darias there. Suddenly some heart melting melody does context switching in the brain and brings my attention back to the tracks on radio set. It’s one of the best cherished solitary moments among the two full days that I spend in Chennai. It’s a heavenly experience to hear my head set spilling out Tamil lyrics during those dark silent hours churning my thoughts in and out in the very little time left to be spent there. During these silent minutes on Saturday night ,each time I sincerely wish for time to freeze . Gradually my day one ends, watching the sky peeping through the window grills, studded with stars sometimes and sometimes the moonlight falling on my toes while I fall asleep unconsciously.
Day two however is not much fun. I wake up around noon , sometimes because of the hot sun blazing on my face through the wide opened windows just to find Jaishree and mom in some deep discussion in the drawing room on either some latest jewelry or some mouth watering recipe or about some metallic piece that suddenly acquired more importance in the pooja room. They never run out of topics to discuss. Sometimes it would be a inquisitive demo session with the article being discussed, in hand. It would usually be a movie on the television with Sunday special sea food recipes, to spend the afternoon. Other wise some down stairs neighbor would peep in to enquire about my life in Bangalore. Not to mention, they sum up telling me how dad and mom miss me so much staying alone, which churns me little. Then I hurry to get wed to the cordless for a couple of hours to ring up people who at least expect a call from me during my visit to Chennai. It goes for hours until mom or dad gets completely irked seeing me spend time over the phone and not with them. It’s mostly reciting the same information that I have, with most of the people whom I call. ‘Any ways it’s only a courtesy call ‘, I would confess to dad finally winking at him.
When the clock strikes 6 I rush to the terrace to click in my mind the bright picture of the mild orange sky appearing cleanly swept (which I always visualize was done with a giant broom on an angel’s hand) from my terrace garden to imbibe some spirit from the celestial interface to get going in life with a heap of courage & happiness until my next visit. My heart craves for a gravitational flaw – formulating earth to stop rotating for a while when I stay still watching the sky above.Dad instructs me to gather all that I scattered around in a day’s time. I run all around the house gathering my toothbrush, clips, creams, headset, mobile and wallet. Then when all are stuffed in, dad comes with the most wanted apparel – my jerkin and mom with some namkeen to squeeze in. When I go nuts with the stuffs that she newly adds to my bag , she plunges in and rearranges all that I stuffed in already, to make space for the eatables that she wants me to carry.Dad by default enquires where I kept my ticket and the coach number to be boarded, buckling his chappals indicating that it’s time for us to leave : ( . Well before time, dad and me start from home, just for the silly reason that dad believes in being at the railway station at least one hour before the train departs : ( .Not an acceptable law at home by any of us. But we had no right to deny this law of his ,right from day one we belonged to his home. Mom feeds me something light to have a good sleep in the train. I take a quick tour around the house just to ensure that I haven’t missed anything essential. When there isn’t enough time to probe much, I at least ensure that my wallet and train tickets are with me.Next it’s mom’s turn. Mom does her ‘Control F’ action all over the house to ensure the same. By when dad stands out , pulls his shirt across his wrist and takes a deep introspective look at his watch which is an indication that I must follow him soon. Mom then stops all her on going activities and bids a half hearted good bye. Its a perfect stomach churning moment, leaving mom in hidden tears and dad little tensed. By the time me and dad wait for the lift panes to reach our floor kaajal(the kid next door) ,Jaishree and uncle would join to bid me farewell. My weekend episode in Chennai generally ends with two cuddling kisses planted on each of my cheek by kaajal in the presence of mom, Jaishree, uncle and dad.
It’s definitely a hard time to leave home, mom and dad. It’s there in all of us but we don’t speak out. Jaishree tries to bring in some fun by telling me ‘Devi u take Kaajal to Bangalore and keep her with u.Am giving her free for u’, when I take her in my arms to receive her precious kisses.When the lift panes close for its down thrust, Kaajal would scream across the glass opening not wanting me to leave them. I know even mom would have it in her. But things go unsaid and we depart with a momentary smile on all our lips.Me and dad simply walk away from the scenes. I have nothing to say and neither does dad. Taking those slow measured steps to walk in sync with dad , helplessly mind plunges in to the painful thoughts ‘y all this,what do I, mom & dad achieve by me living just few miles away from them.
Y this painful moment every time I leave home’ and many more silent debates in the mind with tears sucked in carefully just not to upset dad.Like a ray of positive hope,i keep reminding myself of these lines- ‘Dev life will be a rosy bed until when u are at home, under (Mom & Dad)’s wings. But you will not know what life really means.You must go out and struggle all by urself to know life& people better.U will initially trip & fall, tumble& topple over .No one will come to help you. But then slowly u will manage to balance and stand firm, stand independent and explore life urself. It will make a lot of difference in your life.There is a priceless joy attached to it.I want you to experience it one day when ur turn comes’.Yup, so true were his words I re read them from my mind shelf. And it really makes a difference. I know that now and it gives a proud feeling living it out, knowing the world outside home.I know if I had been a home groomed hudugi I would have missed on a lot of things that I explored all alone in this one years timee.Feeling my long silence dad cheers me up by diverting my thoughts to what should be the focus in life, how to enhance myself each day and be dedicated to work, life & health. Until one year back , this had never happened in my life. Dad leaving me in the rail coaches late on a sunday night & counseling me on the way. He was always there besides me to take care.We reach station well before time as per dad’s plan , even before the train arrives : (. Dad waits until I settle in the bogie number that my ticket reads. Dad simply bids bye and vanish from my sight abruptly not wanting to rekindle my thoughts.
With my bags hugged, looking out of the rail windows, I gaze in mind at the box that destiny shaped me to seal with a tag ‘Most Cherished’ on it, once I stepped out of home almost a year back.Until ample folks gather around to distract my attention, I take a closer look at the contents of my ‘Most Cherished’ box :' Exclusive slang of chennai, fragrance of coovum, fat chubby yellow autos, larger than life size - passenger friendly buses, flying train, humidness in the air, sole reason for it – The marina beach, beach sundal , crispy dosas & ideal idlis, those nerve spinning melodies that make sense only to the people of chennai, Vijay , my Surya, sun Tv, radio mirchi, kaajal, my subramani, school friends, college crush, home, mom & dad "While I take a closer look at my ‘Most Cherished’ box the engine pulls all the split bogies together to reach its morning destination – the Bangalore city.
Back in office on Monday morning at my desk with loads of tasks to accomplish, surrounded by faces known for just less than a year, the thought of the most cherished contents sometimes seems to be the most wanted in life.
