Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Myriad hues of Mylapore


Glistening huge expanse of water in the tank reflecting a thousand images, seemingly dancing in the rippling waves. The majestic tower as the backdrop. A clear night sky above, strewn with a million stars. A riot of colours emanating from the illuminations of quaint old buildings. 'Rasi' neon glow signage holding centre-stage, further adding charm to the ethereal visage.... This picture-perfect setting, the signature motif of 'Discovery Tamil' channel is not from a glitzy, distant Paris. Nor is it a Diwali night. It's much nearer. At the heart of Madras. It is Mylapore!
Not without reason has the motif been so thoughtfully chosen by Discovery. The imagery captures the essence of Tamil and Chennai. Just as Chennai is a microcosm of all things "conservative" south of the 'cosmopolitan' Bangalore, Mylapore is the symbolic leitmotif of the wonder that is Madras. The venerable jewel in the crown.

Mylapore sports different colours at different times of the day. At dawn, it is the intoxicating aroma of Kumbakonam degree Kapi wafting from all around. At noon, even as the blistering 'winter' sun scorches the streets, it is the bangle sellers in North Mada street, milking roaring business out of the fair sex just disgorged from the tourist bus from Gujarat. At evening it is the throng that strolls the inside Prakarams of the temple, savouring every gentle whiff of the cool breeze from the beach a furlong away and every gossip from Meenatchi Mami's house-hold a couple of continents away. At night, well past 11, well past the REM sleep phase of the rest of Chennai, it is the odd drunk with the single chappal splayed on the steps of the tank, the intake of Tasmac brew an hour ago still working wonders inside his head. Mylapore is all this and much more.

What more, one may ask. First, the Kapaleeswar temple. It is not the biggest of its genre even in Chennai. If I were to say so, one Mr.Parthasarathy with the handle-bar moustache, about 5 kms. away, lording over nearly twice the built-up area would take offence. The number of occupants inside the temple (the permanent inmates, not counting the human visitors and members of the canine family) is also not big. Just the family of four and the Navagrahas for company. It is just a well-maintained (in the inside, that is) timepass hangout, a rendezvous for the retired post masters and elderly mothers-in-law of the neighbourhood, suddenly remembering their 'roots' in religion, pierced by pangs of guilt and yearning to atone for their past 60 years' misadventures and seeking 'punyam' for 'pora vazhi'. It is also these days, a hip-joint for the youngsters for whom being seen in temples is the in-thing nowadays, next only to perhaps Express Avenue. It is also in the must-see list of the tourist from Japan and Jhumritelaiya, the former scrounging for something he is sure he has missed in Osaka and for the latter, the stronger his outpouring of his favourite Bol Bam, the nearer is salvation. 

I do not mean for a moment that no fourth variety enters the temple. It does. For this ilk, it is impossible not to experience a light-headed feeling of happiness inside the sanctums. If inside the 'Ambal' shrine (idols of our Goddesses can be real beautiful! come, see and experience!) automatically switches on the i-pod pouring out lilting Ilayaraja masterpieces at the back of your mind (partha vizhi partha padi...., Masaru Ponne varuga....), once inside her spouse's sanctum, his 'Kunitha Puruvam' and 'Kovvai chevvai' makes you feel, well, happy and long for more! Pure happiness, unadulterated by any religious or mystique connotations.

What more in Mylapore? There is this Giri trading agency, at the eastern end of the temple - the haat that sells beautiful things like incense sticks, dhoop, trinkets, khadhi wear, books on Ramana Maharishi, tomes of a best-seller titled Gita as told by one Krishnan Vasudevan hailing from Mathura of UP (his only best-seller) and other sundry items. Oddly the store calls itself the 'one stop shop for Indian culture and tradition'. Debatable, unless all things cultural and traditional are beautiful.

What else? Oh yes, the daily 24 X 7 chaos of the vegetable market south of the tank, the Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan to the east, another Bhavan (Saravana) to the north, its competitor Sangeetha to the south. And the Chitrakulam, Dooming Kuppam, the pure South Indian Udupi 'Brahmanal' eateries, the sprawling Ramkrishna Math, not to mention the omnipresent lovely ladies and the jolna-bag mamas (I mean uncles, not Vivek's 'mamas'). And then the seasonal flavours of Margazhi month Kolams on the Mada streets, the Oduvars in the temple, the Kutcheris and Bhajanais.

Emperor Jehangir is said to have famously said, 'Agar kahin jannat hai to bas yehi hai, yehi hai, yehi hai!' - meaning if there is heaven on earth, it is here, it is here, it is here. For me, I need not look far for my jannat. It is here, it is here, it is here in Mylapore. I would consider my life's purpose served if I manage to acquire its citizenship at least for some years or even a few days and enjoy the associated privileges in my own small hut right at the heart of Mylapore.


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