Seeing Places
For the past few weeks, the only books I have been able to settle on are those set in the subcontinent; preferably non-fiction, travel writing or exploration of places. I think I’ve spent all my propensity for depth and analysis for a while. In my twenties, I would have considered this a kind of travesty. I was supposed to read Sartre and Camus. Why was I wasting my time on frivolous stuff that would not improve my mind?
I read a lot during the lockdown. I didn’t really have much of a social life earlier, but my reading went up a notch in 2020, even as I balanced long hours of work with some solid reading almost every day. This, coupled with the minuscule amount of time spent outdoors, makes me miss crowds and people all the more now. Over the past few days, as you’ve seen, I’ve written about traffic, markets, travel, and all the things that we’ve not had the luxury of for nearly a year. When I was younger, I thought books were all you needed for a happy life. I didn’t count for the changes that come as you grow older. The invincibility of the twenties gone, I now talk to G. about how we should be a bit more social, our propensity for solitude notwithstanding. I can’t imagine retiring in a hill town or a quiet, peaceful retreat anymore. I’ve finally turned into a city person!
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As a visitor to Chennai, the only places I knew of were Korattur and Triplicane (thanks to family living there). Since summer vacations were spent invariably at Hyderabad, visits to Chennai were rare — only for a wedding or an important occasion. “You didn’t go to your beloved Tamil Nadu?” a teacher in Vizag asked me once, when I said I went to Hyderabad for the vacation. Most people didn’t see that though we were Tamil, we didn’t have strong links with the state and that was normal. And this is astonishing in a country where people travel its length and breadth for jobs. My parents both grew up outside Tamil Nadu, so our knowledge of the state was restricted to its temple towns.
Over the past couple of years, I’ve travelled a reasonable bit around Chennai for work. I see the differences and try to make sense of the drivers of life in all these parts that make up one city, but can vary from one another so wildly. A city is, after all, a collection of small towns. How many years you can spend studying and understanding just one city, and still not know it well enough! Then, imagine going on to other cities in India, the smaller towns, and the villages. This could be a journey for several lifetimes.
What is fascinating is that even when you think of a place as a nondescript town, you can be surprised by it. You just need to be open to the people and their language, food, and stories. Comfort automatically follows. A spicy lunch in the middle of nowhere on the outskirts of Aurangabad; a walk through the vegetable markets of Durgapur; the bustle of a textile shop in Kumbakonam. Images worm themselves into your head, for convenient use when the imagination seeks nourishment.
I want to travel again and see as much of India, then the world, as I can. But, for starters, I would be delighted to see more of Chennai, and understand the identity that was assigned to me by strangers long ago.
