Namma Chennai vs world class

I ’ve been living in a “World-class city” for just over a year, and many a time have wanted to write about the myths or ‘the not talked about’ aspects of the revered coloniser’s capital.

I ’ve  been living in a “World-class city” for just over a year, and many a time have wanted to write about the myths or ‘the not talked about’ aspects of the revered coloniser’s capital. For instance, that the red telephone booths and the fluttering rainbow flag are cute and all that, but the overflowing garbage, the rats, the rain water puddles, the rush and the shoving on the Tube during peak hours and the racism are all very real, and much like at home. Here’s the good, bad and ugly:

• That I could plan my day the way I wanted to was of course a good thing. In three days, I got through four museums, a place of art resistance, a cabaret on a boat, a concert at a church and din’t feel held back or rushed as it often happens in groups. I didn’t queue up for the Mona Lisa, and as a guide suggested, turned my back on her and saw other things in that room instead.
• I stayed at a non-fussy hostel. there was no intrusive landlady I needed to make conversation with. To not have to walk on eggshells, or not get into an arguments with the uncle that your relative went to college with and insisted you stay with, is also definitely good.
• It is obviously easier to strike up a conversation when one is alone. Many were had at cafes, cabs, toilets, ticket counters, and in front of sculptures and paintings. Most were had in taking or requesting photographs to be taken (Yes, I now have a photo of me standing in front of the Water Lilies).
• This is me being sloppy, or maybe the big influence of Modern Love in my life right now — anything I’ve done in Chennai alone has never felt so. If there’s a gig I want to be at and feel too tired to find company, I would just go. The city being what it is, there would always be familiar faces to wave at. At a Sathyam Cinemas, there’s always Roja Akka in the bathroom with a friendly face, and at an Amadora, Rajendran Anna who grades my parking skills.
• The ugly, then, isn’t that there is no one to to share the ‘Chocolate mousse forever’ with. It is ugly because it is the same as anywhere else — hold on tight to the bags, don’t let the luggage out of your sight. Be safe, be safe, be safe, walk under the lights, don’t speak to strangers, never drink more than one glass of wine, and only if you see it being poured. It is the city of lights yes, and for some that of love, but for many apparently, it is the one of trying their luck — they will try, and they will follow you if you say no. He will creep up on you and refuse to leave till you threaten to call the cops. You will spend the rest of the evening anxious and feeling watched and cut short your plans and feel unsafe even underneath the covers. The ugly sometimes is believing that another part of the world is different, safer for a woman. It’s not.