Three Whole Months....

Just completed three whole months in Chennai... the realization gives me a weird mixture of feelings from bright silver of hope to deadly gray of despair. First of all I am sorry for a long spell of silence, for no reason -I guess everyone needs a break. Who knows I may post faster and more regularly now onwards, who knows, my erratic posting may get worse. There is travel on the cards, first postponed by the deluge in Mumbai and now teetering on rescheduling because of riots... Looking back at my first quarter here : What did I enjoy the most -the squirrel, the singing squirrels of Chennai. I failed to notice for weeks that the sweet songs in the morning were not from the birds, there are a good many here, but from the squirrels to my great surprise were producing those incredibly sweet long drawn-out musical notes. I failed to see squirrels in Pune or other places in Maharashtra, but they were plentiful in Gujarat where I grew up. On a couple of occasions I befriended them. There is a legend there about them, that the squirrels have five black strips on their body because the first one had been caressed lovingly by Lord Rama himself when he was sitting and brooding over his lost Ladylove in some forest. I found them most irritating creatures, making loud chirruping sounds, with the bushy tails going up and down in time, beating time helplessly. These melody-makers here, gave me a pleasant surprise and I love listening to them exchange lovey-dovey messages from dawn up to coffee time when the heat cools them off…

I enjoyed discovering the simple pleasures of life, with a gentle throwback to my frequent trips to this city in 1970s. Like the roadside vendors masterfully tossing the green coconuts in left hand whilst chopping it in slices with a force that makes me watch with bated breath. None have chopped their palms nor fingers off as yet, and they manage to babble forth whilst producing a readymade green coconut replete with a hole to push the plastic straw and suck to your heart’s content. The pulp, whenever it comes out, is scooped with a spatula fashioned by these violent absentminded strokes, tastes like heaven. Reminds me of my childhood vacations in Cambay [now Khambhat] where the palm-fruit used to taste exactly the same, though thicker, more pulpy and sometimes harder too.

The really heavenly taste of the vada sambhar made in Chennai cannot be compared with the bet of the restaurants anywhere…there is something in the air and water which makes the sambhar so heavenly and the crisp vadas so irresistible. Every morning, they taste exactly the same. To my great surprise, I have found I hanker to chew on those tiny black bomblets, black pepper seeds. All my life I’ve been pulling curry leaves [kadi patta] out of such preparations, along with the eye-wateringly strong pepper seeds. Not so here, and for a reason too. My grandpa used to tell me listen to your body, and you will never go wrong… if you crave for mangoes in summer, eat them. Watermelons and raayans too [those are tiny black gooey berries which are sweet but if unripe, your lips get stuck so bad, it takes minutes to get back to reopening that vital orifice.
I read somewhere, black pepper is an important ingredient here because it helps you dry up the moisture deep inside you. Makes sense. I have never felt healthier in my life, as compared to Chennai… because, strong coffee and these spices, keep my blood sugar under check. In fact, if I am not careful, I teeter on the dangerously low blood sugar [always cross check with my glucometer whenever the whole world starts to close in, on to my head…] which means the diet out here is most scientific anywhere. Kudos to the slim Madrassi [now a vanishing breed, thanks to Gupta Sweet Mart and Goyal Sweets and Sharma Sweets and junk foods aplenty…even the ubiquitous Chaat from North is here].

Amongst the non-vegetarian delicacies, seafood always tops the list for me. To my pleasant surprise, I discovered that the cheap rice-plate, ‘meals’ as they are called here provide me a sumptuous feast every day during lunchtime. I have had to curtail the rice quantity, by one third, I cannot hope to finish a small mountain of white rice [give me yellow, brown, green, even purple but not white-some childhood phobias refuse to go] . But the eight or nine tiny vessels with sambhar, rasam, three vegetables and a surprise fish curry are enough for me to last me till evening… I usually finish off the insipid sweet dish, for it contains minimum sugar and gives me a kick to get my spinning head back to balance in no time.

Chettinaad cuisine is famous, and it took me a while to visit one. These restaurants are unnecessarily expensive, warned an ex-IITian friend who himself is a vegetarian. People must express second-hand, third-hand opinions, if they are negative, I have seen… and so, I splurged once or twice. It’s the medium class restaurant that makes one feel so. The upper grades have food too delicious to have the customer complain about the prices. Karaikudi within a stone’s throw from my place is an experience. In fact my first visit saw me conjure up an idiotic menu according to my low sugar-suffering brain’s needs… Crab soup, Kheema dosa and fruit salad. Wow, what a meal. I shall cherish it in my memory for years to come. In fact I sent out copious sms messages all over to friends and relatives to make them hang their tongues out with temptation whilst mine was lolling out due to over-indulgence in spices…

Discovery of pavement booksellers and the specialist shops should come next, for Chennai is a booklover’s paradise. I have indulged myself in that department shamelessly… by now in three months, I have acquired more than 40 books, which I could not do in years at Pune.

Cheerio !
(c) Max Babi 20th July 2006