From Madras to Chennai

Like the heritage structures nestled in the corners of the city, sometimes dwarfed and eclipsed by the shiny skyscrapers, or busy flyovers, Madras is alive and well.
| Photo Credit: Getty Images

It’s early morning (at least by my standards!), and I can hear the cries of “Puttu, Idiyappam, Puttu, Idiyappam” wafting into my consciousness. Simple breakfast dishes that were available long before they became fashionable and trendy. The great advantage is that these are home-made and delivered piping hot at 6.30 a.m. The prices are reasonable, a good bargain for saving the hours of toil, for the idiyappam at least. The puttu seller has a fixed route and specific timings, with select customers. He has graduated from his rusty bicycle to a scooter, but the rest of his paraphernalia is much the same — two large containers with lids. In a nod to modern Chennai, he uses a pair of gloves to pack the idiyappam or puttu into the casseroles or whatever the customer brings.

Market place

The puttu seller has not changed his main way of attracting customers: his voice. The average vegetable seller has done so, and at any time of the day one can hear the vendor’s wares advertised over the loudspeaker, with some superb voice modulation and creative copy. There are now mini-trucks that arrive with seasonal fruits and park in a street for some time, waiting for customers, blaring across the street. It was once so common to have all these sellers and we would step out of the gate and buy the vegetables or fruits, always with a little grumbling and bargaining as standard operating procedure. All that haggling stopped when “departmental” stores came in, and we started shopping in air-conditioned comfort; then we complained that the curry leaves were no longer free. After the shops arrived, it was infra dig to buy from the streets.

The next step in shopping was the e-commerce and quick commerce platforms. Again, a mixed blessing, since you cannot guarantee the quality of the vegetables or fruits delivered.

It’s interesting to see how the traditional maligaikadais, or kirana stores, are battling competition.

The first is in the range of goods available. Where jam and sauce were the most you could get from these stores, now it’s varieties of pasta, not just chapatis and bread, and nachos, tacos, traditional kadala mittai, and quinoa chips. The smaller stores still offer a personal touch, a recognition of the customer, whereas the larger stores are totally impersonal and delivery is “contactless”.

Talking of deliveries, these have become an ubiquitous part of our lives — from goods and appliances to vegetables, groceries, medicines, diapers, and food — totally indispensable and an absolute blessing for the house-bound. While foodies can insist on labelling home delivery of dosas or parathas a food crime, they do provide a convenient option. But for those looking at Madras and Chennai, the night scene is totally different. Once lights were out at 8.30 p.m., till television started keeping people awake past midnight. The only “discos” of the 1970s were in the mornings (for the college-bunking crowd). Women were expected to be in the house before twilight and not expected to “loiter” in the streets.

Globalisation and the Internet have changed all that. Tech-savvy women get employed in high-end jobs and work international shifts overnight. Perceptions changed. Go to any IT park area or the eateries, posh or otherwise abutting the area and see how many mixed groups there are.

And what are all the youngsters of Chennai eating? From Arabic shawarma to kunafa desserts, myriad versions of biryani, Korean buns, kimchi, Japanese sushi, Vietnamese pho, Texan burgers, fusion idli and dosa (more food crimes listed here!), all are there, in food carts, trucks or high-end restobars; Chennai has travelled a long way from sundal, raw mango slices and fried chilli bajjis on the beach.

It was during the pandemic that several home-makers found themselves earning through their home-cooking skills — today these have morphed into catering services providing simple South or North Indian food to gourmet dishes curated for a discerning audience. Several women entrepreneurs are blossoming, starting bakeries and bistros.

Music tradition

Some Madras traditions continue — the Marghazi music festival, with all the NRI snowbirds flocking into town, resplendent in their Kanjeevaram silks and the entire extended family in tow, the children with their American accents, the fathers in T-shirts, some flaunting veshtis, others Bermudas. The festival continues to grow in size and stature, genuinely attracting the best talent in music and dance. Other Madras institutions that remain unchanged are the iron-men at every nook and corner.Chennai has not taken to the dry-cleaning culture, so the uniforms and daily wear are bundled up and either sent to these men (women don’t seem to have been admitted into this guild yet!), and brought back every evening, crisp and starched. Equally a part of the Madras-Chennai landscape are the clogged storm-water drains, desilted and yet defeated by every downpour. Hope springs eternal and every year sees grandiose plans for the Cooum and Buckingham Canals to become boating canals. Also part of the culture is the eternal wait for an auspicious time from an ‘esteemed’ politician to inaugurate a bridge/ building complex/flyover. [I miss the days of push-button inaugurations, when this was done remotely !]

Madras has been an epicentre of education and Chennai is very much in the forefront of academics, medicine and culture. As always, a lot has been done, but much remains to be accomplished. Like the heritage structures nestled in the corners of the city, sometimes dwarfed and eclipsed by the shiny skyscrapers, or busy flyovers, Madras is alive and well.

Chennai will soar into the 21st century with grace and confidence, its ‘Madrasi’ roots deeply entrenched with its own customs, traditions and ethos.

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