India at Last

Map of Tamil Nadu

Walking out into a Madras night was like walking into a steam bath–hot and muggy. Madras–or Chennai, as the government now officially calls it–is located on the coast of the Bay of Bengal, an dis all tropical lowlands. By the sea itself one may have pleasant, cooling breezes, but here, inland, there is only the sultry tropical summer night.

Because summer comes in February in Madras, and just a bit later as one goes inland to higher elevations. It is still early summer, mind you–the true heat and misery make themselves felt in April and May, when even the locals complain and life shuts down. In colonial times the British would abandon lowland cities in droves and hie themselves to the "hill stations" of Ooty and Kodaikanal. Now the Indians flee there in droves; those who can't leave slow down, turn on the fans and AC, and make do.

But it is still early summer, not yet too unpleasant and still tolerable. And I'm off to Vellore, in the Eastern Ghats, and once mighty mountain range that time and erosion have worn down to a series of rocky hills.

It's a fairly quick two hour drive at night, as there is little city traffic, and the National Highway connecting Chennai to Vellore has been largely completed. In years past, it would be a pleasant four hour meander through small towns and villages; now the drive is about as exciting as any highway in the US, except with lots of slow-moving trucks without any rear lights to add a bit of interest–and danger. Still, a shorter drive is not necessarily a bad thing when you're tired and sleepy.

I arrive in Vellore at 3:30 in the morning,and the town is almost unrecognizable–small town India is one place that still truly shuts down at night. The streets, which team with people, vehicles, cows and goats during the day are eerily empty. The shops, which stay open fairly late, are all shut. And there is that most rare of Indian occurrences–silence.

But CMCH is unmistakeable, despite its constant evolution. Once inside, getting to Jiji and Prasad's house is more difficult than I'd imagined. Jiji had told me that they had moved since my last visit, and gave me detailed directions to the new house, but the driver would simply not believe me when I tried to direct him. He insisted instead on taking me to their old flat in the X block. I convinced him, though, to leave the bags in the car and go check first; we took the lift to the 4th story, and he rang the doorbell several times, but no one answered. Thankfully, the flat was still vacant. Only then did we go looking for the right house.

Jiji was still at a big OB/GYN conference in Delhi, but Prasad was home and expecting me. I had a cold glass of water, we chatted a bit, and then I went to bed, totally exhausted. I slept until late in the afternoon, awakened twice by Lakshmi insisting that I must be hungry and must eat, and Tarun trying to get me to play.

When I finally came to, it was a fine spring afternoon in Vellore. I got to tour the house and gardens (still under construction), and play with Tarun, now four.

We played with the cars I had brought him, as cars are a current preoccupation of his. Avinash, now twelve, was home from school, and soon Prasad arrived home, too. Friends dropped by, and we had cool drinks and spicy snacks.

It was a slow, quiet re-introduction to India. That night, after unpacking and settling in, I slept under a blanket in the still cool night. I enjoyed that sensation, knowing it wouldn't last.