When Chennai was Madras

On days like today, when the Chennai sky decides to descend to the tarmac as rain, the constant downpour reminds me of an era long gone, when Chennai wasn't Chennai. When the world hadn't entered the new millennium. When I wasn't 24 years old. When I didn't even know how old I was, yet longed and yearned to grow up as quickly as possible.


When there was no Facebook, no Twitter, no Instagram. When there was no internet. Come to think of it, there were no computers either.



This was the time when my brother used to torture my mother, when every other day resulted in a fight and him throwing the food off his plate onto the walls. When my brother used to take sadistic pleasure out of tying me to the ceiling fan and switching it on. When he shot in my back with the new 'air gun' he was gifted. When I had my first accident on the first day of first grade, on the way to school. When we didn't get to use our Fiat Padmini to go to school. When my driver had to ride me and my elder brother on a Hero Honda Splendor to school every day, when riding triples wasn't looked at as an offense. When the bike rammed into an Ambassador and I was sent flying onto a pavement in an Anna Nagar street, with my head meeting the ground and splitting open into a mini-pool of blood. When my brother who I thought hated me, was carrying me in his arms, with tears rolling down his face in the fear of losing me.

When wetting the bed was commonplace. When I shat my pants at school owing to an infection, and was made to wear a girl's uniform, because that was the only spare uniform available. When that was quickly forgotten in a couple of days, owing to the absence of Facebook.

When Spencer Plaza was the coolest place to be at any day of the week. When Spencer Plaza was the only place to be. When malls were called 'plazas'. When Shanthi Colony didn't exist. When OMR didn't exist. When Wednesday, Friday and Saturday nights were spent driving to Elliots Beach, with songs from 'May Maadham' were playing out of the speakers, with the windows down, with me and my sister occasionally sitting in the boot wide open. When we spent hours hanging from monkey bars that magically grew out of the sand, with my mother running behind us to feed us rasam saadham. When Milky Way in Egmore was the best place for ice cream. When T Nagar was the only place to buy new clothes for Diwali. When Liu's Waldorf in Adyar was the only place to have Chinese food. When we spent every Tuesday and Saturday eating in style in our car at the drive-in Saravana Bhavan in R.K.Salai.

When there were double-buses on Mount Road. When we looked for the colourful, transparent buses that Prabhu Deva danced on in Kadhalan.

When the good folks from Milo came to our school to let us try refreshing glasses of cold Milo. When I didn't know that was just a marketing strategy. When my most prized possession were my Action shoes, with lights flashing from the sole with every step I took. When my second most prized possession was a white Lion King jacket, which the whole quarters at SAF Games village was jealous of. When a 'friend' of mine kicked me in my face because I called him a dog. When days were spent playing the little cricket I knew, evenings were spent playing a little more cricket, and nights were spent playing Hide n' Seek until my mother came running for me and dragging me home because it was 8:30 PM already. When we looked forward to participating in the quarters' annual Fancy Dress competition. When I was still lazy, and went dressed as a Malayali, which I was even without the 'fancy dress'.

When Pepsi was Lehar Pepsi, and had just started to become everyone's favourite drink. When Nike, Adidas and Reebok followed suit, and none of us could afford the shoes so we satisfied ourselves with free Nike stickers and posters. When Cadbury Perk was so much bigger than it is right now. When all of us kids used to run behind the ice-cream man, one of the few Gods we really believed in. When he gave us Max Orange ice cream for Rs.5. When the walls of my brother's room were adorned with posters of Michael Jordan, Guns n' Roses, and a grey-eyed starlet called Aishwarya Rai. When I wasn't allowed to stick posters in my room. When the inner compartments of my cupboard were secretly adorned with stickers of God...I mean, Rajinikanth.

When Rajinikanth became an auto-driver, and every auto-driver wanted to be Rajinikanth. When I lost my mind over watching Baasha for the first time in Devi Theater, cheering for him when he walked in his trademark style, laughing with him at every ridiculous joke he cracked, crying for him when the villains tied him to a pole and beat him up in front of his family into the night. When my brother took me to Satyam theater for the first time, when it wasn't called SPI Cinemas, when we could take our own snacks inside the theater without the fear of being frisked. When my mother took me and my sister to watch Rangeela in Melody Theater when we never understood Hindi. When my father took me and my brother to watch an effeminate-looking Bobby Deol in Barsaat, the only movie my father ever took us to. When my mother started taking us to every single Shahrukh Khan movie that ever released in Madras, as a result of which we started picking up Hindi based on what was going on on the big screen. When we discovered what a drive-in theater was at Prarthana Theater, looking at the T-Rex jump out at us through the windshield.

When there were audio cassettes in every corner of every room, and every single one of them being an A.R.Rahman album. When me and my sister spent hours listening to the 'Jeans' soundtrack. When I knew the lyrics to every song in Kadhal Desam, singing my heart out while adoring Abbas and Vineeth dancing like there's no tomorrow, wearing clothes that noone would ever wear.

When my mother used to buy my sister also a cake when it was my birthday. When she was allowed to cut the cake too. When they left me back weeping my heart out in India and took a trip to Singapore, because I had to write my second grade exams. When our VCR got spoilt right at the time when VCD players were released in the market. When me and my sister spent hours at Burma Bazaar, fighting about which VCDs to buy. When she got all the VCDs she wanted, and I was jealous because I didn't get to buy Terminator 2.

When all we had to look forward to was going to Spencer Plaza in the evenings or the Egmore Museum after dark. When the streets used to get flooded with a light drizzle. When our biggest problem was getting tickets in black to watch a Rajini movie. When we had little dreams, and bigger hearts. When there were lesser modes of communication, but a lot of time to communicate. When life wasn't as complicated as it is now.

I still long to go back to that era gone by, when I wasn't 24 years old. When Chennai wasn't Chennai.

When Chennai was Madras.