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My arrival in Chennai on a balmy evening and the subsequent taxi ride to my hotel presented me with many surprises - not only was the city apparently devoid of beggars and touts, but the city was clean - even by European standards - and the traffic system had a fraction of normality about it (only a fraction, mind you). What's more, instead of the usual Ganesh or Shiva deity adorning the taxi - it was Jesus and the Virgin Mary. This indeed was a most subdued return and had me thinking that all that effort in mentally fortifying myself for another round of chaos was misguided.
Thankfully, the new morn brought a more typical Indian experience. As soon as I left my hotel the onslaught began - I was peeling beggars off arm and warding off autorickshaw wallahs(drivers) from every direction. However, Chennai is quite different from the larger cities of the north like Jaipur and Mumbai - it is far less frenetic, far cleaner and possesses a relaxed charm. For example, a visit to the train station saw them patrolled by military personnel who largely consisted of beautifully dark-skinned young ladies in khaki uniforms.
Two days after
arriving, I boarded the train to Madurai and checked the seating list - it contained only one 'FT' (Foreign Tourist) - me. Once the train departed the station, I was surrounded by a carriage of Tamil speaking locals and travelling through the palm-trees, rice paddies, banana plantations and the sugar cane fields of southern India. I was alone and far away from the world I know - what more could a traveller ask for?
Upon arriving in Madurai at 9pm, I was greeted by a city pulsating with energy - noisy, chaotic and intense. From the railway overpass I could discern a sea of autorickshaw wallahs and hotel touts pouncing on the disembarking passengers. Not only was I the only foreigner on my carriage, but also the whole train - thus making me the prime target for the ravenous wallahs and touts below. I readied myself and walked into their midst, but nothing happened - not even so much of a look and no hassle whatsoever. Truly, this is one of the great miracles of our time.
Once passed the throng, my next obstacle was to overcome a tight street packed solid with a vast array of vehicular
traffic. The police officer's attempt to halt this moving block at the pedestrian crossing was futile - for the small group I was with had only crossed half-way when the traffic resumed its relentless pace - leaving us stranded in the middle. Here my street-crossing skills learned in Cairo years ago proved most beneficial. Leaving the rest of the group I somehow managed to adroitly squeeze between cars, motorcycles, buses, autorickshaws, and bicycles to reach the other side - and my achievement was acknowledged by a shopkeeper's head-wobble of approval.
Though it was quite late, the humidity was extreme - and by the time I reached my hotel, rivers of sweat were flowing down my face. Thankfully, an air-conditioned unit was available, which also had a ceiling fan with two speeds - off and cyclonic. I collapsed on my bed thinking that with each passing day, the India I remembered was returning to me - the beggars and autorickshaw wallahs became more persistent, the traffic chaos greater, and the weather more humid. The sultry seductress that is India is slowly revealing herself to me again.
The main purpose in visiting Madurai is to experience the astonishing Sri Meenakshi
Temple - it is to the south of the country what the Taj Mahal is to the north. Twelve brightly coloured towers of up to 50 metres tall encompass an area of six hectares. Inside is an incredible array of smaller temples, shrines and statues all housed in endless dusky corridors. I witnessed a myriad of religious practices involving candles, bells, incense, parades and food - worshippers smashing coconuts against a wall, ghee smeared over one deity, and powder on another. Though these practices were largely beyond my understanding, it did not diminish my fascination.
One of the undoubted highlights of this current journey to India occurred during my first visit to the temple - for I received a blessing from the temple elephant - a peculiarity of southern India. The Sri Meenakshi Temple has several elephants, and having chosen my preferred animal (it had the nicest eyes) I followed the blessing ritual. Initially, I placed my hand out (with the required donation) as the long flexible trunk scooped up the money, before gently resting its trunk on my head, with only a slight discomfort caused by its weight. The elephant finally removed itself from me and the blessing
was complete - a wonderful experience. It must be said though that the temple elephant seemed to bless anyone who passed and not just those it paid, its trunk constantly swinging and brushing people as they passed.
The following day I returned to the temple and because a propitious day for weddings beckoned, the area around the temple's lotus pool was packed with hopeful brides and grooms, and their doting families. For those who know the noise and activity that accompanies one Indian wedding, then 20 weddings within the space of three hours provided the observer with something most memorable. Walking around the numerous wedding parties I was invited by children and adults to take photographs and share with them in the preparation of the wedding party for their most auspicious occasion. This inevitably resulted in me assuming my unofficial role as an Australian ambassador as I showed them photos of my life in Australia, engaged in discussions about the marvels of the Australian and Indian cricket teams, and presented gifts of Australian coins and kangaroo pins to the children.
The warmth I received from these groups was incredible, as for hours I was constantly encircled by curious
eyes and smiling faces - their infectious spontaneity and joy ensuring an exhilarating and uplifting experience. Once again, this demonstrated that as beautiful as the monuments of India are, the real magic of the country lies in the hearts of its people.
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