I wish Chennai gets 40cm rain, so that we can see how well tharkuri Vijay is maintaining its infrastructure.

#Chennai #infrastructure #Politics #Corruption #Vijay

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Fuck, neighbours blast their speakers. It would be a great celebration if they are dead.

#SkyLabAvenue #Sithalapakkam #Chennai

Colours of Egmore

Egmore, a historic neighbourhood in Chennai, India, is known for its colonial-era architecture, busy railway junction, roadside artists, and markets overflowing with colour. The railway station here has been a major travel hub for over a century, once one of the key gateways connecting colonial Madras to the rest of South India, long before Chennai had its current name.

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche

He holds my hands softly and places the hemispherical drum in my open palm.

“What are they called?”

“Oh, just happy drums,” he tells me. “Feel closely,” and he begins tapping on them, and the loveliest notes come forth. “Do you feel the vibrations?” he asks me, smiling as I nod back.

“That is music we create.”

He leaves me holding it and shows me his wares: numerous drums in various shapes, sizes and motifs; some catering to hippies, others to Buddhists, many to free souls and several to children, with happy trees, blue waves and lavender poppies.

He taps across his wares, and several notes ring out in succession. He smiles as strangers turn toward him, inspecting the source of this lovely noise in the bustling Saturday Egmore crowd. Softly, and with the attentiveness only an artist possesses, he places different drums into their hands and watches their faces change as they realise the vibrations they feel are translated to the music soothing their hearts.

He spreads his arms again, exhibiting his colourful wares — bold reds and greens, some with golden borders, others with silver. They sit in neat rows, descending in size. What a luxury it is to not be afraid of colours, I think.

Beside him, his companion’s stall swayed gently beneath the tarpaulin roof — rows of cloth puppets suspended by red strings, alongside home decorations, miniature autorickshaws and elephants, all just as strikingly vivid. Crimson, saffron, turquoise and deep violet spilt across their skirts in mirrors, sequins and gold-threaded patterns, while bright yellows and glowing blacks flashed beneath the dim shelter of the stall.

Their painted faces wear fixed expressions beneath large black eyes heavily lined with kohl, and their shiny attire and jingling trimmings catch the light whenever the hot Chennai wind drifts through. Dancers and singers and village women and puppeteers hung frozen mid-performance, as though an entire travelling theatre has paused beneath the blistering Egmore heat — a world of their own, within a world of his own.

“…and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?”
― Vincent Willem van Gogh

Thoughtfully yours,
D

Related read:
A Street Symphony

Previously on Random Specific Thoughts:

• Colours of Egmore
• Anatomy of Moving (2/2)
• The Things We Leave (1/2)
• Humanise
• Sacred Heart

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Engineering Job Search: If ATS does research on worst engineering colleges, you may be in soup.

https://youtu.be/oiw0jSbatrM

#Engineering #Chennai #Job