Chennai/Madras

Thursday 5th March.


We arrived in Chennai at 8 am this morning and I felt excited at the thought of setting foot again on Indian soil after so many years; the land of my birth!

The air was murky in the early hours but cleared enough to see the buildings which stand behind West Quay number 4. They are a mixture of grimy 1930 edifices and the exotic domes and spires dating from the earlier years of the British Raj. The forecast temperature for today was 95 degrees. We dressed in our cool airconditioned cabin but went out on the dining deck for breakfast. The heat was bearable but the smokestack of a neighbouring freighter belching black, sooty smoke sent most of us scurrying for cover.

I had managed to book us into the Colonial Heritage hotel in Pondicherry tomorrow for three nights but, after doing so on the phone, ran out of time on my card at almost exactly the moment the ship ran out of phone cards. So as yet we have no car and driver to take us there! Hopefully we can arrange that tomorrow.

This afternoon I took a bus tour round Chennai while George took his students to an Outsourcing Centre. The bus picked up our group at the bottom of the gangway, which was as well as the temperature had soared with the humidity and waiting on the tarmac wasn't pleasant. We literally dripped on to the bus and sank thankfully into comfortable seats with nice cold air conditioning. We had a delightful Indian lady as our guide and she filled us with information almost non stop through the entire five hours of the tour. Interestingly we visited first two Christian churches followed by the old British Fort and its officers club, a craft and sari centre, a Hindu temple and finally a home visit to our Guide's huge and beautifully cool home.

All this was accomplished by driving through streets thick with all kinds of traffic; bicycle and motorised rickshaws, little three wheeler cars (both of these forms of transport look dangerously vulnerable) four wheeled cars of all shapes and sizes, three wheeled bicyles, carts being pulled and cows and goats strolling! There are no distinct lanes and the driving is hair raising to say the least....weaw many near fatal near misses! Our guide wore a bright orange salwar kameez and carried high over her head a floral sunshade. She marched death defyingly out into these terrifyingly busy streets and held up her hand; the traffic screeched to a halt and then she beckoned us to follow her across. Which we did timidly and anxiously looking all ways for stray maniacs who might conceivably mow us down before we reached safety. "Safety' was edging our way along crowded streets filled with curious men and women, the latter wearing stunningly beautiful saris in vivid gem colours and in an amazing variety of combinations. Believe it or not I felt elated and at home amidst all this brilliant chaos. I, was pouring with perspiration, hatless (it was just too hot to wear one!), feeling grubby and nervous but enjoying every minute!

But into every life some rain.....there were maimed beggars, and homeless figures wrapped in filthy cloth, sleeping on the sidewalks; appealing children pleaded for money as did a stately white haired lady wearing a classy silk sari in the Fort's club museum. There were women younger than me, bent and coughing (alot of the elderly were coughing desperately....dust? TB?) struggling to carry their precious bundles home or to work. We drove past fishermen's Government housing which looked like slums across the road from their fishing boats lying on one of the world's longest beaches. Oud guide described it all in matter-of-fact and almost loving tones and I realised that we, seeing it for the first time, are raw and sensitive and critical, whilst those who live here and see it every day of their lives have lost any critical perspective and all is accepted and acceptable.

We visited a Hindu Temple. They take religion so much more seriously than we do: it is a part of their day. To come to temple at 4 o'clock and walk nine times round a representation of the planets, to pray and spread rice flour and to be given ashes by the priest to mark your forehead...earth to earth and dust to dust...seemed familiar! I had to walk barefoot because I had forgotten to bring socks. This meant leaving our shoes in a little booth and walking down crowded none too clean streets and into the temple courtyard on blazingly hot tiles where I was forced to skip and finally to run to avoid blisters! But you know what? I have NEVER appreciated my old sandals so much.....shoes actually are a luxury and I didn't know!

On our way back to the ship at about four o'clock the whole colourful population of Chennai seemed to be drifting across the golden sands to talk, hold hands, laugh and run and generally clear away the cobwebs of the day. It was a beautiful sight....I am fast running out of superlatives....we had been fed and watered at our guide's home, met her husband and two and a half year old grandaughter out from the UK and already felt more settled and part of the scene..a ridiculously rapid acceptance because we had been bombarded with impressions and emotions and were tired.

The ship sat there waiting to envelop us and keep the bogey men away....it was a welcome relief to come on board and throw ourselves on our beds or in the shower and to wash our hands and feet....especially mine!

We sat and compared notes at dinner with our Pakistani friends, Nassim and Nilopur; she accepted me almost as a sister the moment she discoverd we were both born in Karachi! Nassim is lecturing on Islam and Nilo is a charming woman with an impish sense of humour who is not afraid to show affection to her British 'sister'! She comes to life in port but suffers dreadfully from vertigo when the ship is moving. The trip has been an on going struggle for her.

Enough! it's bed time and my brain has succumbed to a sort of stupor.....good night.