The Champs

3000 and counting!! This was the statistics when I made the last count in January of 1995. I had hoped to reach the 5000 mark by 2010, but now that just seems like a dream. I began counting in September of 1977 and to think in a matter of seventeen and a half years I had reached the first said number is I think a great achievement. I am sure most of you have no clue as to what I am counting. Well if you have lived in the Middle East at some point, you may have a slight inkling. The number is that of the chicken dressed and prepared by me during my life in the Middle East. 3000 as such seems a very large number, however when you make a break up of it, it works to about 15-20 birds a month.

Those who have lived in the Middle East will know how important a place this lowly bird occupies in the diet pattern of the inhabitants there. Occasion or not chicken is an integral part of the dining table. My first tryst with the bird was sometime in September of 1977. On my first visit to the super market I came across the poultry in the freezer section. They were so well packed and the leaders in the market was a brand from France called DOUX. Every housewife in the Middle East would have had her reckoning with the DOUX chicken. On bringing it home, I realized that it took a couple of hours before it could be thawed and ready to be cut to desired pieces. This needed some expertise of which I totally lacked. My husband did it for me and I was a keen learner, knowing fully well what was in store for me in the years to come. Although I was married at the age of 20years, I was not a novice as far as culinary talents went. Having just graduated with a Bachelors degree in Nutrition and Dietetics, I had done some cooking in college as well as at home. The raw meat for those endeavours were cut and in ready to use format. (The cutting having been done by some other poor soul) Here was a chicken that came with the skin, fat and all other paraphernalia and it was not before 4-6 months that I moved up from the apprentice stage.

Once the apprentice ship was over, graduating and reaching a PhD seemed child’s play. From preparing one chicken with great difficulty, I ended up making ten and twelve chicken for some of the get togethers. The Indian community like the other communities that live in the Middle East, is famous for its bon homie and parties and any such event warranted the lowly or shall I say the lovely chicken. Towards the end of my stay, I could say that there have been times when we have purchased crates of chicken for a single occasion. In the meantime, the chicken too seemed to have progressed. DOUX, the hard as rock brand started giving way to dressed refrigerated birds. With plenty of poultry farms coming up in these countries, emphasis was given to their own products. This resulted in us getting fresher products which were closer in taste to the ones we were used to in India. The latest I hear is that there are shops were one can go and buy a chicken just like how we do it here. Although the job is made easy, the thrill according to me is lost. There used to be a joke that some of the frozen birds could be older than the user!

Now that I am back in India, the counting has stopped and I have not been able to improve on my score. In all these fourteen years, I may have had to prepare only about 50-100 birds. My services are only required when we decide to have a BBQ, for which we prefer to get the whole cleaned bird and then cut it to our choice. As for my friends who are still in the Middle East, most of them having completed 30 years, and I am sure there score must have hit 6000 and above. These ladies will prove a true competition to some of the sportspeople who struggle so hard to reach such magical numbers. Long live these Champs!!!
JAI HO!!!!

A Powerful Tool

Language has never been my forte. I have had a mental block when it comes to studying a language. The three languages I can claim to know are English, Malayalam and Tamil. However I can never claim to be a master of either three. By virtue of having studied in the English medium, I can to some extend say that my English is passable. I envy people who have a flair for a language and can talk so well and put across their thoughts in such a clear fashion. Latest in the long list of such personalities I admire is the President of the United States of America Barack Obama. People may have different views of his politics; but they will all have to agree that among the present inhabitants of planet earth, he ranks among the top ten speakers in the English Language. How I wish I belonged to his breed!! As for Malayalam, it is my mother tongue and hence am able to speak and make myself understood reasonably well. Malayalam literature goes way above my head and when I am in a Malayalam literary forum, I could as well be in Patagonia in the Amazon forest. Having resided in Tamilnadu/Chennai for more than three decades, I can speak Tamil reasonably well; however as for Literature, it shares the same status as Malayalam.

My second language in school was Hindi. But my abilities to express myself in Hindi are appalling. Leaving Hindi behind, I decided to take up French while in college. Apart from helping me to score some marks in the exam, French has worked no magic in me. (Some of my friends who did the same three years of French in college are French tutors now). They say languages are learnt when we hear them being spoken. If this is true, I should have picked up Arabic as I stayed in the Middle East for almost 18 years. All this has brought me to the conclusion that I have no aptitude when it comes to learning a language and pursuing this would be a total waste of time.

I had no choice when it came to learning the English language. Being the language to communicate, I had it in my psyche that it will stay with me forever. Nothing comes easy, and I have braved some embarrassing moments to get it right. Women’s Christian College, Madras, is an institution which has so many unwritten rules and traditions and believes in following it to the T. One such rule was that the whole class meaning the whole of Pre University Course irrespective of what major, or the whole of first year degree students or second year students would be divided in to four groups as far as English classes go. Being a college with a total strength of less than 500 students in 1970’s it was possible to do this. (I wondered then as to why the college administration went through such rigmarole). The science students always were at a loss when they were together with the English Literature students while studying General English. So each year when the test was conducted to segregate the class, my prayers would be that I should find a place in group B or C. As luck would have it, all the three years I landed as you would have rightly guessed in group A. Being in a class with girls majoring in Shakespeare and Shelly, and being taught by the best in the department, I would cringe each time I was made to read something I had written. My plan used to be to hide behind the person in front, but that never worked thanks to my physical disposition. Even now I remember vividly how I used to long for the bell to ring!! I suppose I had no choice but to endure those classes.

It is 32 years since I left college and 33 years since I last attended an English class. However on hindsight I think it must be those classes that made me strive to be accepted among my peers. Had I been in C or D, English too would have taken the same route as the other languages in my scheme of things. Much as I would love to be a Barack Obama, I am content that I have the ability to express myself in a manner understood by others and gladly appreciated by few.

True to One's Name

A name is something bestowed on an individual by his or her parents/grand parents. I feel a lot of thought process would have gone into christening an offspring. I have been trying to analyse the names of near and dear ones and relate it to their personalities. In most cases I found that they lived up to their names. Among us Indians (read Hindus) the most common name for an offspring would be that of a God. Since our pantheon has far too many, there is never a shortage when it comes to names. It is said that most of our main deities have more than thousand names each to their credit. If the Hindu name is not directly that of a God’s then it at least has a Sanskrit connotation.
My father’s name is Bhaskaran, which is another name for the Sun God. I feel this name suits him ideally as he stands bright irrespective of where he is. My mother’s name is somehow different. She was named Leina after River Lena in erstwhile USSR. My grandfather having commie leanings, thought the names Ganga, Jamuna or Saraswathi would not do for his daughter. Being a totally alien name in the Kerala’s of the 30’s she was given a pet name Thangam, meaning gold. Hence my mother was uniquely bestowed with a name Leina Thangam. I envy her her name as I am sure that there may not have been another woman having a combination like that. She was one of her kind not only as far as her name goes, but also her personality.
I have heard my mother say that as far as me and my siblings’ names go, it was my father who was responsible. (Had it been left to my mother, we would have been named after Goddesses, and would have had a tough time living up to those names.) Being the eldest daughter of Bhaskaran, I think I was rightly named Usha (morning rays). I dearly strive to be a ray of hope and light in the lives of those depending on me. I don’t know if I have succeeded. My sister Latha, I think was named for the Voice of India, although her name does have a meaning namely creeper. I would like to think of her as a climber, as she has been an achiever. She has reached the pinnacle as far as her profession goes. My youngest sister is named Geetha, which could very well be for Geeta Dutt. Like most Geetha’s I know, I find her to be philosophical and with an opinion on all matters. That I think is natural; after all her name is part of the great Bhagwad Geetha!!!! Now taking the 3 names on a musical plane, there is no doubt that Latha stands far above the other 2 and this is true in the case of our family too. Had there been an Asha, things may have been different I guess.
I always felt that pet names marred the character of the person. My aunt has a beautiful name Susheela and true to her name she is an epitome of all things good. However her pet name is Babu. Now Babu is an unisex name, and on hearing that name one starts wondering right from the gender of the person. Then there is this uncle who is called Baby. He is anything but a baby and his idea in life is to always project a macho image. His given name is Ramunni and that I feel would have suited him to the T. Similarly I have another aunt whose name is Meenakshi, however she gets to be called Mani and then her brother in law who is also my uncle has the same pet name Mani (christened Narayanan Kutty). So when the family has a chat, we have to specify whether it is the male or female Mani we are referring to. One of the few people for whom the given name and the pet name seems to gel is that of my husband’s whose given name is Gopakumar and pet name Omanakuttan. Both have an element of endearment which seems fine with his personality.
It is very difficult for a person to live up to his or her name, especially when the name is an expression of one’s physical attribute. Take the case of Kamalakannan who lives in my neighbourhood, far from having eyes shaped like a lotus bud; it is hard to find his eyes when one looks into his face. Similarly I know of a Karkuzhali who was not bestowed with the black tresses that her name signifies.
People with a political mind set tend to name their children after great leaders. This again serves no purpose as the child seldom can be true to his name. Here in the South we have Lenin, Napolean, Stalin, Nehru, Gandhi and the likes. Wish parents would be more innovative!! After the success of the movie Aradhana, Rajesh was a very common name. This was followed by all kinds of names ending with a –esh. I think this stylized version of an original name is truly meaningless. In most cases the person thus christened does not have an identity of his own.
As of today, I have had the opportunity to christen four times. The first was in 1984 when my house was nearing completion. I decided to call it Sowparnika after the holy river in Mookambika Temple, Kollur. At that point the name was a novelty and many have asked me the source of the name. After 25 years, I can say that the house has lived to its name. It has been a sanctuary to many and has witnessed innumerable happy occasions. The next to get a name was our company. In 1997, when we were to open a Travel Agency, I suggested the name Magellan. After all he was the first person to circum navigate the earth. The name has been well appreciated and not a day goes when I don’t take credit for that. The third name I bestowed was on my daughter of whom I will write last. The fourth christening I did was for the Import Export Company I floated in 1999 which I named Mayur Impex. I felt Mayur being the national bird of India, the name stood for all things Indian. The name was selected as the best name in the export category and I was invited to Spain for the presentation.
My daughter is Sridevi. I know I have put a huge onus on her. I hope like Sowparnika and Magellan, she is able to lead a life, true to her name.

True Hero

I grew up seeing my father as being a very active person. Those were the days when names like multi tasking, wearing different hats etc did not exist. He had a very strenuous job which did not fit into the 9-5 category. He was in the Tamil Nadu Police Department and at most times was connected with the Intelligence wing. (While growing up, there have been days when we never got to see him.) Apart from his job, he always found time to read. Those who know him well will endorse as to what a voracious reader his is!! He also had time for sports which was his passion. Although his first priority was his job, I always think his first love was for the game of Field Hockey. Once the match season began, he would be out of the house early in the morning for the practice session. The matches would be mostly played during the weekends. Since this was the time span before television had made its advent into Madras and India, we were totally in the dark as to how the game was played. Now when I think back my only grouse or shall I say an element of sadness is the fact that I never got to see my father play. I feel if he had had a son, he may have taken him. The reason why he did not take us could be that he thought that the environment was not right for his daughters. I regret that my mother had absolutely no interest in sports (read hockey).
If I remember right, my father played Hockey till the age of 50. He was the goal keeper and preciously a pretty good one at that. It was much later that I happened to read all the paper cuttings which he had with him. Somehow he had never thought it important to show it to us while we were in school and college. How people these days brag about achievements far less. Even now I get goose bumps when I think of some of the headlines in those cuttings. It was during one of these casual conversations, that I came to know that my father almost made it to the 1948 Indian Olympic Squad. He was chosen for the camp that was held in Bombay and spent time in the practice session. However since only one goal keeper could make it, my father was left behind. It was not in anyway because he was lesser off than the other player, but I think it was the hands of destiny that was responsible. I cannot imagine the disappointed he must have gone through, to think you are there and then to see that you have not been chosen. India as an independent nation won the gold in Field Hockey for the 1st time in the 1948 London Olympics. How my father would have loved to be on that winning team. The finals were played against Great Britain and we beat them 4-0. Within a year of India’s independence, that must have been a double victory.
I have never heard him speak with remorse or hatred against anyone as far as that incident goes. However I am sure that an element of sadness will surely be there. If I have some knowledge or interest in sport, I owe it all to my father. With both my sisters being away, I get the privilege to watch with him most of the sporting events on TV. Being a disciplinarian and a stickler for time, when we see some shift in his timings, we could be sure that there is some match happening in some corner of the world and that he is getting ready to watch the same. My father is now 82 plus, however he continues to be very active and has the same zest. There are a whole lot of things we could have picked up from him, which I must sadly say, we have not. Long live his tribe!!!!
Olympic Gold or not, he has always behaved as a true sportsman and will remain a TRUE HERO as far as his daughters go. I am sure that both my sisters will endorse my point of view.

Mayhem

My views on marriage are I think on very liberal lines. I believe that a man and woman immaterial of country, caste, religion etc have the right to live as a couple tied by the sanctity of marriage. This view may also in the next decade have to include marriages between members of the same sex. Much to the ire of some of my family members, I have been supportive of my cousins marrying outside the community. With this being my attitude I was in for a rude shock when during a social gathering I heard a friend announce the wedding of his daughter. On questioning as to where the boy hailed from, prompt came the reply that the boy was an IT professional. (Frankly, all of us were waiting to hear from which part of India or the globe the groom came.) But the father of the bride had a totally different viewpoint and according to him there were only two kinds of people in the world, those in the IT field and the poor weaklings who were not part of the revolution. I must say that I belong to the later category. Being a party to this conversation, I was taken aback, but however remained mute as the person who spoke was much older. I thought of the arrogance of his lot.

This incident happened sometime in 1999/2000 when IT ruled India and right from the price of fish to that of a piece of land was determined by the IT Czars, Czarinas, Princes, Princesses, and other IT royalties. The person who made this classification was, was a top notch executive of a MNC IT firm. To tell you frankly when I returned from a long innings in Saudi Arabia in 1995, I did not know what IT meant. It is said that I have a good IQ. I did not know whom to ask for the expansion. Without seeming like a fool, I asked someone very sheepishly and got the meaning. From then on, my GK in these matters have improved substantially. Again I had thought that the human race was divided into 2, male and female. This new classification by this friend was hard for me to digest. At that point I thought I would wait for my day. Being the era of the “Slumdog Millionaire”, this poor underdog too has had her day.

January 7th 2009, would be a Black Letter Day in the annals of Indian Industry. That was the day the great Ramalinga Raju told the world all the Asatyam about the mammoth Satyam he had built over the past 25 years. He was the blue eyed boy of the Indian Industry and everything revolved around him and a few more of his kind. The fact that the government moved in with extra speed to lift the sinking ship is well known. The government had to do that so as to retain the corporate image India had in the international community. Money is being pumped into the company and its very existence depends on what it can get from the government and the banks. I wonder if the ex Czars and Czarinas, ever wonder as to where this huge sum of money is coming from? It is the money earned by the poor working weakling class or rather the other half. They led a frugal life with no flashy cars and foreign trips and saved every penny in a Nationalised Bank so that their offsprings could have a better life. How are the IT Czars feeling about shamelessly using this money? When I last met my friend, Satyam had only produced Maytas, I wonder what he would have to say now that Satyam and Maytas together have produced MAYHEM. I would also like to ask if his classification still holds good!!!

Encapsulated

Have crossed 50 years of existence, I started thinking back on the decades having gone by. I cannot say that I am an achiever, in the normal sense of the word; however there have been many anecdotes and experiences I have had the pleasure of partaking. I would like to take of from when my married life began. Having been married at 20, right after my graduation from a city college, I joined my husband who was then working for an international airline in the Sultanate of Oman, namely its capital city Muscat.

The first time I heard of the city of Muscat was just a couple of months earlier when I looked into the map of the Middle East as a good friend was moving to Kuwait. The Middle East in my mind was associated with the Arabian tales of Lawrence of Arabia, and older ones like Sindbad the Sailor and Alibaba and the forty thieves. It had a lot of enchantment attached. However the fact that it was a “foreign land”, in the time zone of the late 20^th century had forcefully drawn a different picture in my minds eye. I was yet to see a photograph of the place and it was with this confused and contradictory mind set that I landed at the Seeb International Airport on September 3^rd 1977.

My first footprint on foreign soil was in the Arabian Desert and this I must say turned out to be a very good beginning as I have had the good fortune to visit so many countries in the ensuing years. The drive from the airport to the city was a monotonous one, the road was like a ribbon flanked by the desert sands. It was only after 40kms that the first settlement came to view. Having gone from a bustling metropolis like Madras, I was shell shocked by this total change in the topography. I felt that the only thing missing were the camels and the tents. Next day being a Friday, we decided to do some shopping and hence visited the Muttrah Souk. Souk as the West knows is a market place; however market will not describe the real essence of a Souk. For me it was a total change from the likes of Spencers, Nalli, Rasi and Chellarams the popular shops of Madras then. I wondered if I had traveled back in time. The only point of grace was that the shops in the Souk were well stocked dealt with the most modern of household items and electronics. The shops did not have shutters as there was no theft. Everything seemed to be in abundance and there seemed to be no value for anything – was reminded of the urns filled with gold in the Alibaba story.

The next few weeks saw me going all over Muscat and everywhere it was as if time had stood still. Except for the few new buildings and hundreds of kilometers of metalled road, the whole place was warped in time. Construction work was on in full swing and the dust from the bull dozers and the heavy equipment had formed a haze in the atmosphere. The women belonged to another time zone and the question of having a friendly chat with your neighbour just did not arise. When I look back, I can truly say that what I learnt in the 15 years of my formal education paled considerably when compared to the on hand education I have had later. The word I could best use to describe the Muscat of the 70’s would be ENCAPSULATED.

The Fourth Member

To Sultan goes the credit for making me reach the mindset that Man and his best friend can share the same roof. Until my association with him, I for one felt that our four legged friends belonged to the out doors. Frankly speaking I have never had a pet while growing up and hence never understood the joy they could give and how much they could enrich ones life. My husband has had dogs in his growing up years. It was common in Kerala to have a couple of mutts roaming around the compound, which in most cases was very vast. Their interaction with the senior members of the household was minimal. Nothing out of the way was done for their upkeep and well being and they just grew, lived and died. This was not the case with my husband who had fond memories of Joy, Tommy and another Sultan.

The credited Sultan belonged to my friends Rathi and Mohan who lived in Al Khobar, Saudi Arabia. He was a beautiful German Shepherd with a balanced mind set. I met him first when I was visiting Khobar from Jeddah, and even after 17 years the fears and trepidation I felt during my ride from the airport to the house seems so fresh. I was instructed by Mohan as how to behave and how to get him on to my side. All my worries were in vain as Sultan was a sweet heart and in my first trip itself I became his friend.

On seeing my interaction with Sultan, my husband Kumar felt he could raise the topic of having a pet with me. As we were living in an apartment and frequently traveling, it seemed impossible to have one while in Saudi Arabia. However I promised him that on our return to India we could go ahead and have a pet. (Although they are meant to be called DOGS, my husband just abhors calling them thus.)

We relocated to Chennai in March of 1995 and after the initial hassles of settling down and seeking employment; it was time to bring home our best friend. As for me Sultan was the yard stick to go by and hence the automatic choice was a German Shepherd. We zeroed in on a breeder and on a Sunday evening in November of 1995 both of us went to bring our friend and according to my husband OUR SON home. (Our daughter came into our lives a couple of years later.) While relocating from Saudi to India, we happened to spend couple of months in the US and that was the period of the O.J. Simpson case and his lawyer Johnny Cochran was the toast of the media. Hence Kumar had decided that our son would be called Cochran because it stood for efficiency and smartness. I was apprehensive about the name however towed along. My confusion was short lived as my Dad suggested we call our son PRINCE. Since Prince and Sultan belonged to the same genre, I gladly grabbed the idea.

The litter had six and according to the Vet he was the pick. Since we wanted nothing less, we decided to make him ours. He was a cuddly black ball weighing less than a kilo and about 5 weeks of age. He seemed to respond to his majestic name from day one itself. I had organized a large cardboard carton for him to rest. As night approached we lined the box and prepared it for his sleep. When I thought I had things under control, my husband let out a missile, by saying that Prince will share our bedroom. Now this was not something I was prepared for. Sharing a home is fine, but not sharing a bedroom and a bed. Although I never thought of him as someone who would watch over us and stand at the gate, it seemed totally out of place to have him in the bedroom. According to me nature has given each of us a place and that we should not over step. With much hesitation I took him up on day 1. The next day when we were discussing Prince, his sleeping arrangement and how I felt about it, a friend came up with a very good idea. He suggested we have him in the bedroom till his ears stood erect. I jumped at the suggestion and my husband unwillingly gave in. A German Shepherd is known by his upright ears and so I felt it was matter of maybe 3-6 months.

Prince lived the life of a true Prince; he slept in our bedroom till the last day of his life. It was not that I gave into my husband’s wishes or changed my mind. The eternal wait for the ears to stand erect was in vain. His ears remained floppy right through. This however added a touch of softness to his otherwise regal character. Spending so much time with him in the bedroom, my interaction with him was far greater. I took it in my psyche that a Prince will always be the fourth member of our family. May be it was the Creator’s way of making me appreciate more of his creations. Although the loss felt at Prince’s demise was unbearable, the only thing to bring us out of the grief was to get Prince Junior. With a young daughter we thought it fit to go for a docile and family oriented pet and hence zoomed in on a Labrador Retriever. He has been with us for the last 6 years and as for his character all I can say is that he is a shade better than MARLEY!!!!!!

My Hour/Day of Glory

It started of as an innocuous phone call on a Saturday sometime in September 2002. On picking the phone, I was able to place the caller and hence could address him by his name. This puzzled the caller as we had not been in touch for so many years. He immediately equated me with “Grandmaster” Pradeep. Since I had no clue as to who this gentleman was, I had to ask for more details. I was told that he conducted a very popular quiz show on a Malayalam channel. The show was called Ashwamedham and was aired at 10p.m on week days. The Grandmaster had a good memory and hence the comparison was meant as a compliment. Curiosity got the better of me and I decided that I must watch this show the following Monday.

In my scheme of things, post dinner is assigned to reading; however I decided to make a shift and switched on the channel to view the show. I realized that the said show was a reverse quiz programme where the quiz master had to guess the name of a celebrity given by the participant. The names were routed through a 3 member jury. The quiz master is allowed 21 questions and the participant replies with a yes or a no. On watching for a week I realized that the success rate of the Grandmaster was almost 90%. A small seed started growing within me; I wanted to be a participant in the show and hoped they would do a recording in Chennai.

Dawned November 1^st 2003, and all roads lead to Malayali Club, Chetpet were the show was being recorded. I had done some research and had come up with a name. I went to the venue along with a couple of friends, who had implicit faith in me and were there to cheer. The first hurdle was to get chosen for the show. Questions were thrown to the audience and those who came with the correct answers were chosen. I happened to know the name of the Railway Technocrat who was none other than Mr. E. Sridharan and thus got chosen.

The first 5 participants were torn to pieces with less than 10 questions and next was my turn. The jury approved of my list. Sitting on the hot seat with the cameras flashing and an intimidating quiz master was no joke. I realized it was all very nice to sit in the comfort of your drawing room and pass comments. Questions started coming with the speed of a piercing arrow and I answered them with a yes or a no. Since he was a purist as far as Malayalam was concerned and me being a Chennai person, he had to translate some of the questions into simpler language. At the end of the 21^st question, the Grandmaster had only deciphered that the personality was a German. Thus he conceded defeat and I became the winner. When I said “Oscar Schindler”, I’m dead sure that the expression on my face was similar to that of Jerry’s because what I could see on the Grandmaster’s face was that of Tom’s. Few more participants took part and it turned out that I was the only winner for the day. I was invited for the All India Mega Finals at Thiruvananthapuram in early 2004. The prize for which was 5kgs of gold or equivalent in cash.

The day surely belonged to me. Everyone termed me a genius as I had beaten the master in his own den. Soon afterwards I started researching for the Mega Finals and came up with a whole new set of names. Being a very positive person and a woman, I also went around all the major stores in Chennai, finding ways in which I could spend the impending booty. The list of names has gathered dust as the Mega Finals did not materialize. May be the organizers got cold feet!!!!!! In the mean time the Grandmaster has moved to greener pastures and looks even more prosperous in his new avatars. As for me, among several other things, I’m also waiting for the next “worthy” innocuous call to come.

Madras Nalla Madras

Madras Nalla Madras

Vanakkam

Cent percent in geography, history, science and technology, mathematics, language, culture, religion and the line is endless. This winner all the way is my hometown and the city most dear to my heart which is none other than Madras. Where the waves of the beautiful Marina hit the shores to be received by the most remarkable coastline consisting of so many regal buildings headed by Fort St. George. Where the aroma of the filter kaapi vies for space with the heady smell of the jasmine flower. Where the women in their finest kanchipuram silks keep pace with the tech savvy youth of the IT world. Where the traditional music and dance festival is attended with the same fervour as a box office from kollywood. Where the latest BMW jostles for space with the one of its kind Share Autos, and where there are trains running on, above and soon below the ground. Where the temples of Mylapore and Triplicane along with the Santhome church, Valluvar Kottam and the Big mosque stand as sentinels. This is my Madras. Welcome to Chennai nee Madras Nalla Madras.