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(ARCHIVE) Vol. XX No. 8, august 1-15, 2010
Short 'N' Snappy

Chennapunji?

In the days of his childhood, The Man from Madras Musings had read that Cherra­punji in Assam (now in Meg­ha­laya) was the wettest place on earth, receiving a certain volume of rainfall that escapes MMM’s mind for the nonce. MMM had often wondered how life would be in those parts and then came a day when he visited the place. Unfortunately, that was the one day of the year when it did not rain. It was horribly humid and MMM freely cursed the divine forces that had played a nasty trick on him. Since then, it has been MMM’s unfulfilled dream to experience what it would be like to live in a place where it rains all the time. Somehow, to MMM, the rain is one of the happiest experiences of life.

Now, our own city has not done too badly this July. It has rained at all opportune and inopportune moments. Usually, Chennai that was Madras in July is a fair representation of what hell-fire is all about. But everyone was in for a surprise when it rained, and rained. None more so than our friends in the Corporation or whoever having roads, drains and other such things close to their hearts. Expecting July to be dry as a tinder-box, they had planned a series of ambitious digs. Where no digs were possible, they had embarked on milling the roads. If even milling was not possible, the roads had been made over to those in charge of cables/drains/water supply. And between them, they had dug large tracts of our city when what should happen but the rain. As always, the Met ­office was caught unawares and had to find some pretty smart ways to save face. MMM, who watched some of the forecasts, noticed that these were full of vague expressions such as “possibility of thunderous development” or “lightning, thunder and some rain”, etc. All this when a glance outside the window would show that it was raining, and pretty hard at that.

To come back to the road digs, those who dug have vanished, nimbly scurrying for shelter no doubt. The hapless road-user, MMM notices, has been left to cope with deep chasms, ravines, small mounds and, at some places, sand dunes. Perhaps our Corporation should seriously consider taking on landscaping as a revenue stream. Or, perhaps, adventure sports. It may make millions.

Even as MMM is writing these lines, there is a “thunderous development” without. And, so, why not change our city’s name to suit the changing weather conditions? Not Tamil eh? In the meanwhile, make sure you have your raincoats, your brollies and your galoshes, whatever it is.

One way, rain or shine

Our traffic police have remained blissfully unaware of the excavations made by the Corporation. As a consequence, most of the one-ways that came into existence to smoothen traffic flow have become more or less useless. In fact, the one-way system has become downright detrimental to traffic flow following the digging that has effectively cut off more than 50 per cent of the road space. But, with the one-way system being strictly enforced, vehicles are made to make do with whatever space is available. The Man from Madras Musings had the not-so-pleasant experience of having to drive down one such stretch. At some places the dunes (or hillocks) formed out of the mud removed from the excavations had occupied the entire width of what was left of the road. Vehicles had to perforce drive over these dunes, the whole experience reminding MMM of the time he went on a desert safari somewhere in West Asia. MMM felt sick then, as he did now. If this was the fate of those in four wheelers, the travails of those on foot or on two-wheelers had to be seen to be believed. Added to this, when it was raining, the area was like a swamp and when it was dry, the place was shrouded in dust. MMM is of the view that it is all very well to plan road-works, but our Corporation is completely unaware of two prerequisites – the need to have a time-bound completion plan and the need to ensure that everything is done right the first time. On his various journeys around the city, MMM notices that the same spots are dug, filled up and then opened up again, repeatedly. Can this not be avoided?

Adventure tourism

The Man from Madras Musings recently led a group of foreigners on a tour around the city. The visitors covered the Luz Church, the San Thomé Basilica, the Mylapore temple, T’Nagar, the beach and, finally, came to Fort St George. It was late in the evening when MMM and his flock completed their journey around the fort and came out. Traffic was in full flow and at its chaotic best. The bus in which the journey had been made was on the opposite side and MMM was trying to get the driver over the cell-phone so that the vehicle could be brought to the fort side to avoid giving the tourists the trouble of trying to get across.

Noticing MMM’s efforts, some of his guests rather diffidently approached MMM and asked if they could be allowed to cross the road by themselves. MMM was aghast. He could just picturise the headlines: “Guide leads gaping tourists to gory end” or, the more pithily, “Docent of Death”. Seeing MMM’s hesitation, the group took matters in hand. They formed a human chain and then the best man among them put his best foot forward. Then with a tug and a wave, the group was off. Traffic screeched to a halt all around, but the tourists made it safely to the other side. There was much hugging, thumping of backs and a honeymooning couple even kiss­ed. Amidst all the cheers, MMM was quite forgotten, left behind on the fort-side, his eyes shut and his lips moving in prayer.

Then it was MMM’s turn to ford the road over which the traffic had resumed cascading. Alas, this time no cars or buses would halt and it appeared that MMM would be forever stranded on the wrong side of the road. Whereupon, the human chain was formed once again on the other side. It simply cascaded on to the road, causing traffic to once again halt and came over to pick up MMM. Then, with MMM safely attached to the last skirt in the line, the great escape to safety was made, with traffic being stopped for a third time. All the while, the traffic lights changed from red to amber to green several times, but none paid any attention. Neither the tourists, nor those in the vehicles. MMM, of course, had his eyes shut all the while.

When the assembly was in existence at the fort, there was a semblance of traffic discipline in the locality. There were policemen around who would imperiously wave the vehicles to a halt to enable what was then a sizeable population to and from the Secretariat to cross. But now with the crowds having vanished, there is complete chaos. Perhaps it is in every way symbolic of our city.

MMM

 

In this issue

Is it new life for two heritage buildings?
Elevated road at expense of the Cooum?
U.S. journal looks at the new Chennai
World-class city?
– “A wild dream”
Speaking for Chennai Heritage
A temple awaiting a gopuram
Zooming to a start at Sholavaram
Other stories

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