Manhattan or Mylapore?

A morning walk through the streets of Mylapore made me realize that some parts of Chennai still have a good mix of rural and urban landscape. It was a little after 6 am in the morning and there was light southerly breeze (call it the Mylanter instead of leventer?) and trees and shrubs were dancing in gaiety. The Cuckoo birds were screaming on top of their voice silencing the poor city crows. Though the day temperature still lingered in the lower 100’s, the early mornings are pleasant. The poor streets dogs were trying to find a retreat spot after policing the streets all night while the rich dogs walked out of air-conditioned homes and apartments with an attitude for their morning walks along with their masters. Mylapore seem to have lost the population of wandering cattle, thanks to the city ordinance.

The aavin truck was back to pick up the empty cartoons leaving behind a thick cloud of gases, while maids were vying with the Onyx guy to clean doorway and sprinkle water and make the welcoming Rangoli. A breed of enthusiastic walkers and joggers mostly post 30’s with gracious waistlines and constable shorts were thronging the parks trying breath the lung friendly oxygen before it got adulterated with exhaust gases. Herbal juice vendors were waiting outside the green area to sell their concotions of Aruhampull and Banana stem juice to the health conscious morning walkers. The milk vendors were returning home in their cycles while the big cans on the handlebars were dangling - empty vessels make more noise was very true. The newspaper boys on the sidewalk were busy sorting the newspapers and making the inserts and getting ready for the delivery. The vegetable vendors were already out on the streets and women were on their balconies haggling and their husbands busy sipping the filter coffee and burying themselves in the newspaper.

Different ecosystems operate at different time of the day. The maadaveedhis of Mylapore was calm and tidy for once. As I passed through the Kapali temple I inhaled the refreshing smell of Jasmine flowers and invigorating agarbathis as the vendor was preparing the display of flowers and coconuts outside the temple. Men clad in dhotis and flowing angavastrams, ravishing women glisten against the morning sun with the yellow tinge of tumeric , a 5 Rs. coin sized red bindi and draped in traditional 9 and 6 yards saree, mehendi painting the unshaved finger tips and cracked heels, and noise of the glass bangles all add flavor to this Mylapore. My body and soul refused to move forward on seeing all this and hearing the beautiful Todi played by the Nadhaswara vidwan. I went it to the temple and soaked my soul with some music and spirituality.

I have seen the busy mornings in NYC, nothing but a fast paced mechanical walking with a cup of coffee or speaking to someone on the mobile phone with newspaper tucked under your armpits. But nothing comparable to the true filter coffee of Mylapore, chiming of the temple bells, color flower vendros on the sidewalk. There is nothing perfect and prim and proper here but rather everything simply simplistic. If you thought the Manhattan cab drivers seldom followed traffic rules our auto guys were giving them a touch competition. If you though the hippies on sidewalk in NYC were trendy then what till say when it comes to our Purohits in vestaadai, kadukann, Kaattu Kudimi, smeared vibuthi and carry a different kind of grass and whiz past you in their bikes. No pedicured and manicured models walking around, no skimpy clothes, no lip sticks, no artificial perfumes to induce headache, no overcoats. Where can I hear a refreshing Todi during my morning walk and where can I smell those inviting jasmines, where can I shop for the fresh produce, where I can see the 9 yards saree, glass bangles, and men in dhoti and anga vasthram.

The avid morning walkers and retired folks pulled out their cloth bags and stopped by the market to complete their honey-do list before heading home. Karpagambal Mess was buzzing with activity and flavor of sambar and onion utthapam sucking in every passerby – sensory branding at work, huh? In the meantime the roads were getting busier. Buses and cars took away the freshness in the morning air and the fragrance of the jasmine . The bus stops turned into market places with scores of office and school goers. Housewives busy in the street corners chatting while waiting to get their kids in the school buses. Occasionally we heard the airlines wisk through the skies of Mylapore. Even the passengers were trying to get a glimpse of this city. The L-trains were busy making its share of noise and moving around its share of population and the footboard travelers were peering down at the crowd below. Students in crisp uniforms with oiled hair and vibuthi smeared forehead lugging heavy back packs were pedaling hard to make it to the school on time. Autos were jumping red lights, taking dangerous turns and overtake on the wrong side and this definitely reminded me of the cab drivers in Manhattan. People were already ready for another day here. Cuckoos rested while the city crows parolled the city. There is everything this self contained suburb has to offer its people in terms of culture, tradition, spirituality and convenience.

Well Manhattan can never beat Namma Mylapore!!!