Beautiful Chaos

Last Friday, I found myself in Mylapore to buy gifts as a part of the “Thamboolam” for guests who would visit my very first Navaratri Golu at our new home. Excited, I alighted from the auto - the heat and noise hit me in the face – cars, autos, the inevitable Scooties and Hero Honda’s , people and shops crammed the small street in Mylapore next to the famous Kapaleeshwar Koil. This is the essence of Chennai, Tamil Nadu – the land of filter coffee and temples. The dust, sand, heat mingled with the overpowering aroma of malli pu, smanthi pu and roja pu – the smell of faith, religion, hope whatever you like to call it. It greets you everywhere as you walk through the crowded street.

There are rows of shops - doorless and inviting - shops arranged with bangles, bindis, hair clips, handbags, mirrors, combs , ear rings and other little trinkets. Shopkeepers call out to you – almost as if they can read your mind. On the other side of the street; Lakshmis, Saraswatis, Durgas, Ganeshas, Vishnus smile at the crowd that surrounds them. These are the handpainted clay “Golu Bommais” that will grace most houses in South India for the nine days of Navaratri with their colorful presence. Bright pinks, blues, yellows and green, the colours of divinity, mix effortlessly with the sweat of the vendors pushing their carts filled with more dolls and idols. For those who like shopping indoors, there are stores (with doors) a rare sight on this stretch, that house Kuthu Velakkus or Brass and Silver pots for the Kalasam and other items useful for daily pujas.

Amidst this noise you can hear the hagglers, the ones whose sleep at night depends on the one or two rupees they are able to save. I joined in and stopped by one of the many shops. A packet of bindis encrusted with tiny colorful stones. How much? Rs 5. A pair of intricately decorated bangles? Rs 15. I decided that it was okay to sacrifice a night’s sleep and paid up. This is also not the place to window shop I realized (first because there are no windows) – pick something up, enquire about its price or how it is made? what is it made of? where it is made? and the shopkeeper will patiently answer your so called “questions” till you decide to move on. Then as you are about to leave, your steps slowly turning towards the next shop, you are greeted with a piercing look - the face of a person who has been betrayed by your feigned interest. If you have the stomach you move on, if you don’t – well you just pay up. Lesson learnt.

20 minutes later, I am done shopping, bags filled with kumkum, mirrors, combs, bangles and bindis. But I have the urge to still walk, to explore and consume the raw beauty of the surrounding s. The sweat, the dust, the pollution fades in the background, as you watch the eager faces of shopkeepers, the women weaving flowers with such ease and skill, the autos maneuvering like snakes through the crowd, the smell of mallipu and petrol, and the rows and rows of gods and goddesses that have descended from the heavens to participate in this chaos. Nowhere in the world I thought will you find this – it runs in our blood – and to be amidst it, chaos decked in all its finery is something I will treasure for a long time.