Read Part 1
(1) Madras was a weekend at Bangalore; a chance to experience a more “western” lifestyle. We stared at liquor marts until conjunctivitis sets in. We gawked at women smoking outside tea shops because our mothers and aunties would never do that. We also took photographs of each other striking soft-porn poses on MG Road. Madras was a day at the beach in Pondicherry where we peed in the clear blue ocean and mispronounced “bonjour” every chance we got.
(2) Madras was Bata Shoe Stores and Kalimark’s Bovonto beverages. No matter what Chuck Palahniuk said – even on the longest of timelines, not every brand’s survival rate drops down to zero. Madras was also that frantic sound which chimed the arrival of the friendly-neighborhood kulfi ice cream vendor. Screw the postman. Our kulfi man always rang a bazillion times.
(3) Madras was the science exhibition at Island Grounds near the Marina Beach. The colorful lasers and cartoonish chemistry equipment-like objects that turned us into Alex Pandians in Wonderland. Madras was the Jumbo circus which gave us bad dreams about scary clowns and sad animals. All the enchanting town fairs with merry-go-rounds, giant wheels, endless rolls of cotton candies, and excitable salesmen making sycophantic cases for irrational culinary equipment.
(4) Madras was P James – an entertainer extraordinaire and captivator of imagination for children, who haven’t read Lewis Carroll. Hot on his heels was PC Sorcar. We were grateful to him for making the Taj Mahal disappear, at least for a few seconds.
(5) Madras was Fred Savage. The kid who played Kevin Arnold in a popular sitcom – The Wonder Years. It was Doogie Howser – a child prodigy of a TV doctor who proved that the smarter you are – the dumber you can be. Those cornball blue-screen diaries that taught us life lessons. Let’s not forget Vicky – the robot child from Small Wonder with a voice that only the whitest robotics engineer in the world could love.
(6) Madras was bloodlust of children. This vile need to reaffirm our imaginary place on the food chain by torturing reptiles and insects. Shuttle rackets were used to swat dragonflies before their wings were peeled off. All this because that weird uncle won’t quit asking us to sit on his lap. And we threw stones at garden lizards because that’s how we dealt with bullying. We projected the abuse.
(7) Madras was Niladri Bose, Rudra Krishna, and radio jockeys. They had their work cut out because there was only one station in town that played English music. They were men with deep voices who bring Seventies rock and roll music and witty banter between 7 PM to 9 PM every week. When the MTV era began, Danny McGill and Luke Kenny had us strumming air guitars to Roxette. Then, VJ Sophia Haque emerged as one of the most attractive and intelligent people to talk about music on television.
(8) Madras was Rock Street Journal (RSJ) magazine. Our entry into the world of mainstream and alternative metal. A monthly gift that kept on giving. It introduced us to many heavy metal sub-genres. And we quickly developed an irrational hatred towards society, family, politics, health, and hygiene.
(Images: Pixabay)
I don’t think I can explain enough how MUCH I love your writing, your talent astounds and humbles all in one 🙂 Excellent post!!! Also, thank you kindly for the ping back 🙂
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thanks M. i feel humbled hearing such things!
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Completely true, seriously!
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Too good comrade 🙂 too good 🙂
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thanks bud!
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Ah, what an entertaining piece, with a sobering ending. I await my painless ending 😁
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Especially P James part, loved it..Only people who lived all their lives in Madras can understand what that means 🙂
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His 1-2-3 gill gill gillis felt like real magic to me before that copperfield fella flew over some canyon and ruined everything
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Where s the like button da? U forgot to add imported erasers and sharpeners from burma bazaar 🙂 – klepto moms at botanical gardens – lol – U ve summarized our entire childhood
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burma bazar eh me brains cells can’t seem to process that… but yeah mom was a ninja thief during that ooty trip!
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and the Like button is right below the Social Media button-thingies, wait for it to load
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Loved it. !!
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awww thank yous 🙂
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don’t really understand any of it, but your a good writer 🙂
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thank you JESSIE
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I couldn’t relate to any of this…..except for the point about P.James 😀
A long long time ago, he performed for a group of children at a summer camp of sorts. It was the first magic show I’d seen 🙂
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That’s the diversity of chennai, so many different experiences in such a small place. I am just voicing one (smile)
Also, comrade are you from chennai?
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I believe so…though I don’t feel like it. We moved around a lot when I was younger (but would come to Chennai for vacation every year). So a lot of my special-growing-up memories are rooted in Chennai. I’ve lived here for about eight years in all. I feel like I don’t belong anywhere…just a little envious of people who can call one city their home with some certainty 🙂
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Awesome! I ve noticed madrasi ness in your posts. And roots are roots, anu, no matter how far you go. Yaaay Hi five too.
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I could add a whole bunch of madras-lovin to this, but none will match the brilliance of your list.
I am not sure you are as much a madras lover (if at all) as I am – but this post touch that deepest part of my soul that calls Madras home.
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Awww mighty kind words, madame. Thank you ❤
I suppose it is a generational commonality; this love for the city only known to us as Madras. These kids will never get it, LG.
(Please don’t lump me in the millennial category that I sometimes deserve to belong in hehehe)
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.Madras was miles of unspoilt beach, the sand still trickles out of the socks of some memories! Madras was where it began… Madras was where it ended…. you brought back so many memories, my friend… where do I start!
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Beautifully described, TP. You ought to visit again once the summer is over. Sure, Chennai isn’t Madras but it still has some Madras left in it!
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