From a hot 37 degrees to a humid 31 degrees didn’t matter to me, especially when I was visiting Chennai for the first time ever. As a North Indian, my attraction towards the country’s south only revealed itself when I moved to Bangalore in 2018 for my first job. I didn’t know the language to become a spontaneous fit into the city, but the air was perfect, the dosa was crisp, so I pushed all my hesitation out of the window.
I am not sure if it is my sense of detachment from my birth city or my affinity towards a few other cities where I clearly don’t have any roots but invariably create a sense of belonging in me that is otherwise absent . Having never been to Chennai, I glorified nearly everything I saw: food, the dosa eateries, the flower sellers on the street outside temples, , the markets, its women sellers and the flowers on their hair, the men in their chequered lungis and endless walks on Marina beach. I only had 2 days in the city. The many pre-conceived notions about the city based on the numerous versions I had seen on social media through images well framed my idea of its character.
So, when I reached Chennai with those tainted glasses the city revealed itself slowly. Standing on the conveyor belt an aunt from Jaipur, whom I didn’t see on the flight, suddenly waved at me and suggested dropping me to my “fancy” neighbourhood – I was staying at a small hotel at the boat club road. Throughout the car ride, this aunt who had moved to Chennai a few years ago, recommended a few places. I let her words slide and focused on looking out of the window. My eyes sparkled with excitement looking at words I didn’t understand, and unrecognisable streets and buildings.. I was hungry at the possibility of discovering.
I made a note of all of the apparently cool places I saw on the way, saved it, and took a screenshot of the blue moving dot on Google Maps when I couldn’t identify or pin down a name.
Boat Club road was indeed fancy - it had big bungalows with beautiful architecture, huge wooden gates and lush gardens. I dropped my bags quickly to go to Geetham and gobbled a Mysore masala dosa with kariveppilai podi idlis. It was late evening and I had to be prepared for the early morning next day to stand in Rayar Mess’s queue. At 8 am, my friend and I traversed the beautiful fully-awake streets of Mylapore to find the mess located in a narrow street which was packed with crowds of people waiting to get in. We gave our names and waited while a woman in a blue saree ran up and down the queue serving hot hot filter coffee. In the 40 mins, we waited for our turn, this woman must have done 10 rounds. Her energy was so infectious that I think she must have had a few cups of coffee before she started.
The mess was small, a 16-seater eatery which served cloud-like idlis with mounds of podi, ghee, coconut chutney and a surprising green-chilli chutney. As we finished our meal and stepped out, a paati-amma appeared in front of us, with a basket filled with leafy greens mounted on her head. Deepa Reddy’s words and description of leafy greens in Pondicherry’s markets reverberated in my head and made me feel less of a stranger. We spotted, as Deepa mentioned, amaranths, arakeerai, sirukeerai, muļaikeerai, the usual pudina, coriander and curry leaves. My friend recognised morning glory in the mix – we bought some to give to our friend who we were meeting next.
From Mylapore to ECR, from Rayar Mess to The Farm, the cab ride became dreadful. It could probably be my disdain for cars in general – I felt suffocated, trapped and always gasping for air. But, my giddiness to finally go to The Farm, meet Shalini (the founder), check out the farm store, and the cafe made the ride slightly better.
The store was lined with beautiful produce. The menu at the cafe read like a novel. Shalini agreed and said that there are too many things we’d like to eat, so we put it all on the menu. In the two days that we were in Chennai, we ate two meals at The Farm – the hiyayakko ( silken tofu made by a Japanese family in Chennai, served with a beautiful soy sauce dressing), the butter bean hummus, the egg salad on toast, the sea buckthorn iced tea, the kimchi fried rice and the Crème Fraîche pound cake – everything was sensational for a hot summer outdoor day. I don’t know if it was this weird sense of familiarity with the space or it was Shalini’s infectious energy or it was the taste of fresh produce, but a certain imaginary weight lifted off. I felt present in a way that I didn’t need to be anywhere else, I can stay here and be here for as long as they would have me. No wonder we returned the next day – maybe for the food or maybe for this fleeting feeling.
Throughout these two days, I relied on friends/acquaintances living in the city to take me around. Sudha Sekhar, a resident of Mylapore took us to its famous corners. Kalathi Shop’s panneer soda, an effervescent drink subtly flavoured with rose, offered respite from the heat. Of course popping open the old-school goli bottle/Codd-neck bottle was part of the fun. While walking around, I saw a tawa blazing hot, a batter spread in a circle topped with something I couldn’t recognise. “Vazhaithandu adai”, it was chopped banana blossoms sprinkled generously on the adai base. Delicious. Another stall just 100m from the previous one displayed its wares in big steel containers – five canisters on a small table – filled with Sundals of all kinds. There was a queue for a mix of chickpea, black-eyed peas and peanut sundal – we got a mix of all wrapped in a banana left, neatly parcelled in a newspaper.
Another friend, Viggnesh, a coffee connoisseur and founder of India’s first speciality instant coffee Yettu turned out to be a scholar of Chennai. Before we met, he messaged to ask if I am a vegetarian. “I’m a vegetarian. But I'm open to visiting non-veg places too even if I don’t eat, “ I replied. Turns out this time my company preferred vegetarian too. I realise how much I miss out by not eating meat – not in terms of taste – just in understanding the true nature of food and cultures shaped by meat eating. One of the times I felt so was in the fourth issue, Arun took us to Madurai, a city south of Chennai for a special ayirai meen kuzhambu ( spiny loach curry). This “tiny finger-sized fish in a tomato tamarind gravy,” and his description of the meal made my mouth water. I bookmarked Kasimedu Fish Market and decided to visit it the next time I am in Chennai.
Viggnesh took us to the iconic Welcome Hotel in Purasawalkam – I still dream about the podi masala dosa – it was sensational. My friend spotted the jugs of sambar that the servers poured over idlis and Viggnesh told us that this idea of submerging idli in sambhar was an invention of Ratna Cafe ( another eatery in the city). These small details are fun! After a few cups of Yettu coffee and a round at Sundari Silks ( I got 3 lungis), our autos landed at Basha Halwawala. I tried spoonfuls of Dum ka roat, beetroot halwa and bottle gourd halwa. The slight sweetness lingered on my tongue till we reached Suswaad and tried their fried snacks and dry narthangai ( I bought two packets of this sun-dried citrus slice). Again, YUM! We got a lot of snacks to carry back home, more food souvenirs than I had space for.
My trip would have been incomplete without visiting Tara Books, an independent publishing house based out of Chennai. I ended my trip to Chennai sitting at the air conditioned bookstore, sweating from a 20-min auto ride, reveling at this 2-day adventure.
I am definitely coming back!
