A quiet birthday to celebrate the 78th birthday of my mother in law got me to escape the humdrum of life in Bangalore. A bit of a circuit. By train to Chennai. And a cab to Pondy. It had been a while, those train rides.
It had been a while to Pondy too
My Vande Bharat pulled out on time, the guy floored it past KR Puram The display said 130 kmph and Whitfield was a blur. The gentleman next to me was well turned out, with a little red dot on his forehead, like gentlemen from Chennai often do. I nodded to him and went back to my messages till out of boredom we stuck a conversation. He ran a business. Believed in simple living. He wanted to know about my career in GE, about airline safety, referring to the recent tragedy of course. And then things drifted to fate, Gods way, creation, statistical thermodynamics, order and disorder in life and society. A couple of hours drifted by A kid in the next row offered us chocolates Her mom wearing a headscarf turned back and smiled at us My neighbour rummaged through his laptop bag a pulled out a chocolate The kid threw a glance at her mom, her mom nodded and said, oh thank you so much. My heart felt a bit warmer
I have spent much of my life being my own self, never quite putting on an act, i think. And surely after nearly four decades of married life a visit to my in laws felt like home. The road to Pondy from south of Chennai was a ripper At 100 kmph one was keeping up with traffic Past verdant roads, wooded hillocks we were soon near Pondy Into that warm liberal enclave where there was a bit for everyone
The ashram perhaps sets the tone Order disorder, chill, loosen up, be yourself it seemed to say And so the visitors and residents seem to be able to slow down more than a tad to soak it all in. The promenade amid the rocky beach The pastel coloured buildings, quaint little cake shops, restaurants serving continental cuisine with a chilled mug if you want one, all had the unsaid message. Unwind
As did Maisone de Perumal, with it’s dual open courtyards, with large pots housing small trees, and gentle piped music with men wearing dhotis and rooms immaculately furnished, and a kettle with a French press for coffee. A room that was truly nap-worthy and certainly a wonderful brew to wake us up. And thus flew a day and a half with walks to the beach, the French quarters, morning runs, walks to the temple and of course the ashram
And that morning for breakfast, Maison whipped out a cake The ID proof was not just for compliance but to note down those special days
Those hues of Pondicherry Still wrapped in it
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