Chennaiscope

The silver Alto races ahead of the black Lancer. The blue Swift, till now a non participant, forges ahead to second place. The erstwhile trailing Bolero makes a sudden lunge forward. A much-spluttering autorickshaw joins in, packed to capacity, not to mention myriad other forms of automotive-or plainly motivated forms of locomotion, single-minded in their goal: give us an inch and we will zip and zoom a mile farther than you.
Is this the latest game in town? Does a fortuitous click of the mouse, or a series of them determine the winner? Alas! If only it were..
Even in my microcosm of cool, clean air, uncompeted space and the total freedom of a chauffered passenger in the back seat, it can get tedious…this 45 minute trip by car from mid-city to suburban south Chennai. I feel I am on a treadmill, going nowhere, along with fellow treaders. And so I have devised this game. Look around, observe, keep count, peep into the lives of those destined to share the treadmill today with me, memorize, conjecture, philosophise and…reach home!
Motorcycle riders are the craftiest of the racers- in an already rule-defying, rule-deficient city, they steal the show. They are a boring lot to conjecture on, mostly with dull coloured clothes on and the same black bag diagonally slung, especially the ones in their self-programmed helmeted world; they make up for it by weaving their way deftly through the treadmill-no doubt to another ambiguous ‘meeting’(who goes home at 6 pm these days?); More interesting are couples on motorcycles. He a balding picture of resignation and she a big enthusiastic bubble of baubles…the artificial gold of the sari dazzling, the yard of jasmines to match, at times from my left, at times from my right…and does she look pleased with herself! The much popular housewarming ‘do’ no doubt beckons them.. my attention is swept away by this family- sandwich to my left…lean father riding the bike, substantial mother bring up the rear, and three kids wedged in between. Talk of the helmet rule!…Before I can fathom the feelings on the sandwiched faces or feel their individual pulses, darkness engulfs my space-I find myself sandwiched, and how!-between two asthmatic MTC buses. The window-seaters seem to be playing my game too: with the vantage advantage, a middling mama peers into my window. ‘You may be cool in your cocooned world of comfort but we are sailing-or is it snailing- in the same traffic boat’ suggests his condescending look. An infant in a bright pink monkey cap snoozes on her somnolent mother's chest. Now this is what I call living life fully! A moment? A minute? Eternity?..If ever, it is now that I am thankful to be in hoardings-pakkam. Emerging from the eclipse, as I look skyward for light, the zippered pallu, from a famed silk house, to my left, comes as an intellectual challenge.The reversible diamond necklace on my right- hoarding sudokus I would say-, and then the embossed silk beauty…God bless the city for such brain-stirring innovations!-leader and son beam benignly from the next hoarding while that unique south Indian phenomenon of a famed singer doubling as a silk brand ambassador from atop another gigantic hoarding makes me wonder how it works for the singer and the sari, till a wholesome, informal vegetable market on the pavement, wares in small heaps, catches me eye…keerais of all hues, fruits, veggies..no waiting, no packaging..how much more convenient than air-conditioned outlets! The toddler from the silver Toyota waves..we have already met window-to-window some ten minutes ago. While I imagine where she is heading for with the family, a Sri Murugan call-taxi blots her away from view...a sudden stilling and the rythmic heaving of a hundred vehicles in unison ensues as the signal turns red. A shapely waist in green silk snuggles up to us...an HR head in a multi national no doubt, dispersing her day's tensions while waiting for the green light. Share autos, those indigenous, grunting, overloaded contraptions join us..a pavadai-clad girl, seated on her mother’s lap exchanges a smile.Its a true free-for-all now; a wayside temple goes about its business of dispensing brisk solace to busy devotees and I once more lose sight of the midnight blue shirt(with a Greek nose) in a rickshaw which had held my attention for some minutes…
Not until I sight the depleted waters of the Adyar below me do I come out of the momentum-or is it trance? Had I really been on a treadmill? Wasn't it more a stimulating 'Peeping Tom' experience? In today's reality of closed apartment doors and silent landings, this road cruise had been a welcome social encounter.