Pondy musings...
Did we tell you about the story of a dosai and filter coffee going on a a holiday, they came back immersed in goodness! We kid u not. If this visual inspires you, by god, its Pondy calling. Call it a whim of the listless. Or wanderlust that strikes the hearts of two people in a profession that has seen far few evenings and too many nights. We responded to the call of a haven nestled in the swaying swishing beaches oiled with coconut trees and headed to explore an urban legend called Pondy.
So it came about that after a gazillion phone calls to check ourselves into the coolest New year party haven, we finally found ourselves in a hotel that would want to have us. So go we did. To Pondy....
Blame it on all the films we saw about wild parties at clubs and beaches and beautiful beach clothes and mysterious smiling strangers on moonlit nights. Between a hundred calls between two friends, who were busy making picture postcards of this travel utopia they would take back to the harried work place in between the newspaper business. Numerous calls were made fruitless while slowly the ‘no accommodation’ took house in our listless heads and we tracked down the single most accommodatingly seedy hotel in the most happening place for us to spend the year end in!
And so it went. Or rather we did. First to mercurial Chennai that was everything no other city could be. Hot, sticky, dirty and unabashed Chennai marched about its rhythm and madness with a brutality that can kill on humid nights. Melancholy never gets much leg space in this chaotic metro that gets its attitude from the badass auto rickshaw guys and the film posters that threaten to sear your intellectual innards with their neonic symbolism.
Bass was cool here, the rick rides proved. And so it went. Music, food, people, shopping and not to mention auto rides. Water they say is an issue in the city and somehow unkindly shows on people’s faces. (Tee hee) Pondy bazaar, eating numerous dosas and like quick gun muruguns we headed with single minded filter-coffee vengeance to the East Coast Road (ECR) to find our manna. No amount of googling or ogling or photo blogs will prepare you for the sight of the Bay of Bengal quietly snaking next to the languid ECR road.
Despite the grizzly heat of December, we were happy to report that the ECR was an enchantress all the same. How straight could she get, how many colours could sunlight derive, how innocuously breezy as light years. Could life get any better especially in warm pastel shades like the day. Lulled by the smooth bus ride, the December breeze of the Coromandel coast guided us to Mahabalipuram.
‘Nothing is there’….at Mahabs
Zealous travelers, saddled with huge backpacks we hailed the first auto-rickshaw that came our way got ready to start exploring “the cave temples”. With no disrepect to the agless wonders and its makers, we are fully prepared to blame the heat on our mofussil opinions on the architectural and spiritual abode. “Nothing is there” a group of guys cooed to us on our way around the temples, except some gunny bag shopping on a firang street of course. Let me explain the phrase in due detail. While our rick screeching to the first caves among many, our rick driver duly informed us “Madam only 20 minutes at each spot, or you miss other wonders.”. We dashed to make the most of the cavenous wonders in the summer heat. As we passed a group of young gentlemen tarrying the age-old tradition of showing off before 2 young women, attempted in between shy smiles to say, with an exaggerated hand gesture “Nothing is there”
The largesse of their information was lost to us, as we waved their warning with the sweat on our brows. The beach temples of Mahabs, standing as they were testament to the fact that mankind in the ages gone by, had a lot of time on hands yet had to spoil the party by working or creating. A few temples here and there had us looking for the wonder that our rickshaw guy promised. We silently drank down our momentous dispiritedness at the disparate wonders that never called to us in milky teas and oily snacks.
"Big deal, we have bigger deals waiting for us at Pondyyy yaaaa" we said. And we made a dash for our holiday as it passed us and undertook another sleepy bus ride enroute ECR for PONdy. Heat again.
Pondicherry:-
Our accommodation is a rather non descript hotel next to a liquor shop. Mercifully the room had fans and clean loos. With that being the least of our worries, we decided to sleep off Mahabs from our itinery. Then we headed for Mahatma Gandhi beach. Langorous, rocky yet beautiful. The sea has a personality here unlike the wimpy ones you see in Bollywood dance numbers. The sea here had a few moves herself and we sat lost in this awesome 'sea'someness on the rocks that seemed to cushion our travel syntax and our stress-addled minds.
As we walked past the quasi French area of the colony near the beach, we noticed Chinese lanterns streaming down a terrace resto. Food at Pondy can be multifaceted. Well-meaning looking bistros with a enviable menus can dissapoint while the south Indian joints seem to forever 'meals ready'. Food at the restaurant we chose was a far cry from anything we ordered. Street grub served one floor up with Chinese lanterns for decoration is a parsley mistake in a paisley tourist book of what not to do’s.
Snapshots
We saw…
Come evenings and many cross-eyed men sporting an actor’s stance everywhere . Turns out liquor made actors out of otherwise unwilling individuals.
Buses with smiling maidens and kind conductors who have seen one too many tourists fumble around Pondi town in putrid heat always asking “Where is god” or "where is Auuuuuroville?". We are happy to report that they answer the latter!
Angry sambaric waiters with a meals ready attitude who seem to be thinking (Did you come to Pondy for peace, we can’t wait till you empty this space). Being stared at while you are eating is a good part of the social graces applied here.
Curd rice smiles of localites. A smile here can still get you cheated at, don’t let it kid you. As with any tourist destination, smiles are Pondy's best kept business secret.
One malarial botanical gardens in Pondicherry town. The only out of the ordinary inmates we found here were conjoined earthworms/ bugs that at first sight looked like they were mating and then marched with single-minded approach to the nearest blade of the grass as brothers in arms, quickly making us realize our faux pas.
Leery male neighbours who sensing female company call on you as early as 3 am with a few knocks on the door. And give you glassy-eyed stares not particularly the ones you would like to have staying at a hotel next to a huge liquor store.
A temple elephant who hates female attention and can't stand any female competition. We tried a trunk shake but she wouldn’t let us flounce near all the nice men with unshaved legs and Hawaiin skirts at the temple's entrance. Apparently the temple was celebrating its birthday and our ponderous lady of the fine castle Pondicherium wanted a seven tiered cake.
Rights of passage to womanhood happen much too soon at Pondicherry. The men elbow you out of their domains making you realize what gender mapping is all about ‘down south’.
On the way to the beach we encountered the Revenue of ice (rice) Board. We assumed that the board ate its r’s in a quest for coolness.
Prepare to encounter the loudest silences at Pondy, especially at Aurobindo ashram. Thankfully the bongs resume making noise once they get outside the building…
Every fourth shop is a liquor shop. Case in point “the world has a disease, and I am the cure” emblazoned on t shirts of multiple younger men. We now know.
Look out for the 'bijlee' vans orbiting the town area. Don't let the moniker fool you. No B-town item girl sultry they are the heterogeneous pickly green rickshaws that can transport you from yonder and around pondy in 5 bucks.
Any number of Tam kids with identical night dresses ready for a night about town, especially restaurants.
a virgin beach with no name...
a huge globule of golden egg nesting with embryonic spirituality in the gleaming midday sun (Maitri mandir, sorry folks)
Alcoholics in a drunken daze sleeping outside pharmacies.
a hotel receptionist who in his earnest business zeal will wish you a good morning at 3 o clock in the afternoon
Entreprenial Aurovillians who will sell you scents and colourful silhouettes of spiritual mysticism at a high price
The post office at Auroville is a must-visit for its mint fresh colours and serenity.
Lastly life happens to you at Pondy, you neednt make an effort at all. The trick is to go with the flow and mind you, the flow could sweep you off for years of oblivion and you just wouldn't know the difference. Ask the travel guide for his story at Auroville and you’ll know what we are talking about.
CAUTION:
We traveled on a shoestring budget, ate only when bored and conserved energy by not posing for photographs like other unruly Indians. We took the local buses so we could save the bus ticket for posterity and so we could be scolded by the bus conducter for making him a deal of his life by asking the way to “Maitri Mandir”. We got broke only so we could get a free wildcard entry to a Karaoke night at a club, a private posh party at a home and a hotel celebrating its cheapskate new yearsly hoteldom all in one night.
The road less traveled is often traveled by feet. And we strongly recommend it. Absolutely take a walk from the bus stop to the Gandhi beach and back. Special mentions to the lonely stranger immersed in his Heineken beer and reading Bill Bryson at the terrace café, you were cool but we so had a train to catch!
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Write about Hampi too...or is it too late?