Religious fervour plus squalor.....

                Faced with the 32 hour slow train, that is, one day & two nights, from Kolkata down to Chennai (formerly called Madras), I instead opted for the simple theoretical alternative $80, 2 hour Spice Jet shuttle to the south. That was the promise anyway. Guide books and other travellers tell me that the east coast of India is, in fact, not especially appealing. In the last week, I received two Spice Jet messages to inform me that my flight was cancelled, necessitating a personal trip toKolkata airport to solve the issue and finally secure a replacement confirmed reservation. Duly took-off yesterday, Sunday, fully loaded at 4.20pm from Kolkata. 30 minutes later a passenger suffered heart attack and we had to return to Kolkata---arrived safely 2 ½ hours late at our Chennai destination.

              Awoke this morning in my bed & breakfast at 8.30am—hungry---not able to eat all day yesterday

And what does GOD think of this?

being in transit through airports. Spice Jet was not even been able offer its passengers even a single cup of water in a 4½ hour flight. As stated, previously, finding food is this tourist’s greatest challenge—maybe different for the packaged tour crowd in the Marriott. Remove the hot & spicy offerings on the street and there is not a lot of choice left.

              Another (religious) festival day in India and attracted, just up the road, by the hypnotic beating of drums. Soon I was upon a whirling mass of self flagellating Shiite males. I have seen this on TV, but in full techni-colour real life, it is even more sickening. Especially disturbing to me was that young boys—some maybe only 7-8 years old, had deep bloody cuts over their backs with the constant whipping of ropes. . Such was the mesmerising effect of the chanting and pounding drums, that none of the many dozen participants seemed to notice, or feel, the severe cuts and deep damage that was being inflicted on their backs. All rather shocking, and begs the question as to whether this kind of religious fanaticism is not at the roots of the current schism of Middle Eastern violence. Disturbed to learn yesterday, that 55 people were killed, 100+ injured, by a suicide bomber at  the Wageh, Indo-Pak border crossing ceremony, that I attended just a couple of weeks ago.

              Chennai is the fourth largest city of India. Pop. 6.6 millions, is the capital of the state of Tamil Nadu. Fiercely proud of their own Tamil language, they view the imposition the national Hindi language, as an example of Northern Indian imperialism. I am told that more people speak English in TN than do Hindi. ‘Lonely Planet’ states diplomatically: “Chennai does not always make a good first impression upon visitors” and I would have to agree. I was expecting better, based on what travellers have told me, but we are back in a world of noise, chaos and streets piled with refuse of the most foul variety. I suppose that I should be more charitable, but I really find it difficult how to understand how human beings can collectively agree to live in such filth & squalor. Certainly there is no shortage of unemployed here that could not be conscripted into sanitation brigades.

             Routing myself with the aid  of my trusty old fashioned magnetic compass, I followed the wide & straight Marine Drive northwards for several kilometres, parallel to the beach. I have been told that extensive damage was caused to Chennai’s ocean-front area in the 2006 tsunami that roared in across the Bay of Bengal, however I was not able to see any areas of residual damage.

                Three solid hours of steady plodding, in rising temperatures and high humidity, I was anxious to fill an empty stomach and relying on my trusty guide book, figured that the YW/YMCA International House, near Egmore railway station might offer an interesting buffet repast---disappointed, I had to make do with a plate of rice and a couple of ladles of spicy sauce dribbled over. Maybe, tomorrow, I will track down that elusive and appetising eating spot.