Bazaars

I am Indian. I thrive in crowds. Much as I pretend that I like clean, wide streets and symmetry, something deep inside will always plump for colour, noise, and people.

I want to be in one of Ruskin Bond’s bazaars. Here, runaways slink among tightly-pressed bodies to get to the station, where they can board a train to an unknown destination. The sharp tinkle of cycle bells is only barely obscured by loud voices in different languages (mostly Hindi and Punjabi?), and boys drift beside stalls where hot, golden, sticky jalebis are ladled out from smoke-blackened pans. Coloured, sweet syrups provide refreshment on a hot summer day, satiating the thirst of a boy who has stayed out to avoid facing his father’s wrath. Two-rupee notes can still buy some nourishment — funny, it was still possible a few years ago in Durgapur, samosas at Benachity! — and perhaps companionship. Everyone is good for a conversation or two; you don’t have to be related or to have ever seen each other.

Some wares on offer at Mylapore — photo by G.

Or we could go to Mylapore — to the streets beside the temple, where you can buy everything from a safety pin to mobile phone covers. Stalls, voices, commerce. Occasionally, a festival brings traffic to a standstill, ruining tempers, at odds with what is supposed to be a happy, cheery mood; or the roads are barricaded for a kolam competition, and you can barely see the kolams for the heads and camera phones. There are temple lights and songs from loudspeakers and, if you’re lucky and have caught Chennai in the midst of its ‘winter’, a pleasant chill to go with the hot poli or bajji or whatever else catches your fancy. Life, joy, momentary solace.

Somewhere near Tulshi Baug

Or perhaps Tulshi Baug, with its tight lanes of shops? Trinkets, clothes, bags — take your pick! Old temples, closely ranged stalls, arms pell-mell pointing over one another at earrings and bangles, and maybe a little temple tucked into a doorway — the old-world charms of Pune are delightful. Plants trace lines through walls and doorways, take over crumbling buildings, and assert their presence amidst the chaos of people. Sit on the steps, catch up with friends, talk, think about the new bag you’ll take to work on Monday or the new earrings you’ll wear.

Some day, soon, all this will be real again.