Chennai means....

frolicking endlessly on hot summer days in the inflatable pool in thatha's backyard...



Playing silly games with cousins in the morning without even having to brush your teeth....



Playing gully cricket with a very patient, indulgent much-older cousin anna holding a bat that is bigger than me.

For amma, Chennai meant shopping. Her own personal shopper in the form of appa's cousin, a self-confessed shopaholic who is recognised by her face and is called personally by the proprietors themselves whenever fresh stocks are in.

Chennai means pattu mamis and jasmine flowers and Saravana Bhavan. It means jostling crowds at Ranganathan Street and brightly lit stores at Panagal Park. It means the beautiful, ancient temples of Mylapore and Triplicane. It means little girls running around in pattu pavadais. It means sun rising at the crack of dawns and mamis from every household drawing HUGE rangolis in front of their homes. It means warm, balmy evenings in Besant nagar beach while you sit looking at the endless sea munching on hot corn. It means posh hotels and Kaiyendhi bhavans. It means the ultra hip generation and the kacheri going ultra-traditional youngsters.

Chennai means loads and loads of family and extended family milling around the house all day.

And finally as we pulled into the parking lot of our Bangalore apartment, it meant throwing a king-sized tantrum with a full war-cry of 'Chennai polam!'. 'I want go Chennai.'


So do I, baby. So do I.