Amit Sinha's Travelog

For the past week or so, I’ve been in Chennai, the city where I grew up. It=
s been a mix of spending time with family and friends, relaxing, as well as=
exploring. For the first time in six years I’m actually living life in Che=
nnai, instead of making a hurried visit to the city.

Chennai, like almost anything in India is full of contrasts, and just one d=
ay here brings that out. Chennai traffic is a mess, with roads woefully ina=
dequate for the hundreds of new Hondas, Toyotas and Chevys that hit the cit=
y streets, fueled by the IT boom. The municpial corporation, never one for =
ingenuity and efficiency, a center of either lethargy or incompetance, cann=
ot be relied on to provide proper street lighting, clean roads, and other b=
asic amenities that would be expected in one of the fastest growing cities =
in the world, where residential real estate costs between $100-$200 a sq. f=
t. The traffic police continue to be incompetent as well as corrupt. The mu=
ch awaited Mass Transit System is about twenty years behind schedule. As a =
result of all these macro issues, and the fact that I don’t have an Indian =
Drivers license, and my mother doesn’t have a driver, drove me into borrowi=
ng our watchman’s (Security Guard for the American readers) bicyle to make =
my way around the city.

This afternoon, I headed out on to the roads on a bicyle whose brakes have =
a mind of their own, which most of the time resides in a different world, a=
nd refuses to cooperate, despite all my advances. This is especially discon=
certing when you have a bus rushing past you on the right, a mass of people=
at the bus stop rushing towards the bus from the left, and two motorbikes =
behind you that have a deathwish. Spending even a few minutes on the street=
s in India will provide you with an answer to why Hindus have many gods. Wi=
th so much chaos on the roads, you need several gods working full time to e=
nsure a safe journey. Anyway, thanks to the multiple prayers to multiple go=
ds that my mother performs each morning and evening, I made my way safely t=
hrough the chaotic main roads of Adyar and towards Taramani, which is the n=
ew town built in the past two years on what was essentially barren land. As=
soon as you cross a recently constructed bridge, its as if you have moved =
to a different country. Gone are the crowds, the dirt, the drime, the chaos=
.. Instead, if you make your way past the security guard, you are in a compl=
ex that could be anywhere in the world. The Ascendas IT Park is a glass and=
concrete structure that houses centers for several of Indian Infotech comp=
anies. When you walk through a lobby that’s more spacious and modern than m=
ost buildings in New York, you see a high-tech card access system standing =
between you and an elevator bank that would take you to offshoring offices =
where someone is writing bank software for Citibank, or someone is taking f=
lak from a lady in Ohio who found an error in her Amex card. In the lobby, =
you have a wonderful food court, and a gym whose membership is costing me m=
ore than my New York Health and Racquet Club fees! The shops in the complex=
cater completely to yuppiedom, with two coffee shops, a computer store, a =
“Dollar Store”, fancy gift store, and a couple of mobile phone shops.=20

Some people point to places like this and talk about the phenomenal change =
engulfing India and taking it into the ranks of the developed world. Sure, =
places like this are extremely comfortable, and feel very western, and have=
not only provided employment to hundreds, but also provided them with an o=
utlet to spend their money and enjoy life as well. And for a yuppieish pers=
on like me, having a western-style gym, and a starbucks-type coffee shop, p=
rovide me with some of my creature comforts in a place I would least expect=
to fnd them. Yet, it take me less than two minutes on my watchman’s ricket=
y bicycle without brakes, to go from this Disneyland into a muddy ditch tha=
t the corporation decided to leave unattended on a busy road, letting it fi=
ll up with rainwater. Another three minutes on the same cycle, after gettin=
g my face colored black by a polluting government bus, and nearly getting r=
un over by another, I find myself in front of a brand new residential apart=
ment building, with high walls, landscaped gardens, the works, which has, j=
ust outside it, a stinking garbage can that’s empty, but there’s garbage ly=
ing all around it. Yes, India is making its way to being developed, but eve=
n in its most tony regions, the basic tenets of development, namely cleanli=
ness and respect, seem like goals that are just not on the agenda. A comple=
x that provides everything within its compound, protecting itself from the =
world through high walls is easy, but providing those same standards outsid=
e those four walls is what’s required.

I have a few minutes to kill at the Madurai airport, and looking
around me, its like a mini replica of San Jose Airport, as it seems
that this place caters only to the NRI community, with the occasional
business traveler. It does make sense, as with the excellent bus
connections, I find it hard to see why someone would take the flight
to Madurai.

I look around me and there are little brats running around with thick
american accents, followed by parents in jeans and salwars and bad
american accents… This could be San jose International Airport,
minus the Spanish!

Transport has been a fascinating experience in the past few weeks
that I have been here in Madurai. Buses are by far the most popular
forms of public transport, available in all shapes, sizes and forms.
From the old rickety ones that serve the suburban and city regions,
to the short-haul buses to places like nearby Karaikudi which have
TVs and show Tamil movie DVDs, with English subtitles!!! The long-
haul buses though, are by far the most interesting. They are full
sleepers, i.e., they have no seats, and instead have comfortable
sleeping berths, lower and upper, much like a train. While the single
ones are comfortable, the doubles can be a little intimidating, as a
single traveler, as you will be spending the night in the same bed
with a stranger! But such issues do not seem to affect the average
traveler, who is most accommodating of the situation.

A note on the airport before I sign off though- It serves only about
eight to ten flights a day, but is extremely clean and neat, with
professional staff and facilities, and what’s more, free Wi-fi, which
scores mega points in my book!

More about my experiences in Madurai when I return to Chennai and get
some time to have my virtual life catch up with reality.

As most of you know, I am in Madurai in South India, looking into some microfinance activities. When I go into the villages to meet with the local women and interview them, I am normally accompanied by one of the English-speaking managers. Despite having grown up in Tamil Nadu, my Tamil is embarrasingly mediocre, and I need to rersort to having someone translate the more complex questions for me.

However this morning, I was out on my own, along with one of the local project officers, who spoke mainly Tamil and a smattering of English. However, as it turned out, English was not required, because what was needed was someone who could understand what I was trying to say, and then put it across in the right words… it worked like a charm, and I think I got more out of the day than most other days. It just goes to show that langugae barrier is really not a barrier, if the person is smart enough to understand and interpret.

A dingy, non-air-conditioned cubbyhole in the small South Indian town of Madurai may notbe the first place that comes to mind for cheap broadband, but at Rs. 20/hr, or less than fifty cents an hour, you can sit on an old computer and access the net at blazing fast speeds.

I was walking around trying to find a place to eat and happened to see the faded sign announcing fast internet, and decided to check it out.

I’m trying not to be attached to the internet, but its hard with it being everywhere- you just can’t escape it.