Down. And out.

There were about 50 people in the store. More than half of them were in their tweens or teens. Of the remaining, almost nine-tenths were in their mid thirties, or younger. From the conversations, it seemed that almost everyone had moved into Chennai sometime in the past five years or so. The layout was different, too. That half of the store where books used to be displayed - the 'original' Landmark - was off bounds. There were no books there, anymore. Those left over fitted into six display racks. The toys, VCDs and game cartridges filled up the rest of the space. And the shoppers were busy raiding. 50% off, and that's got the bargain hunters in. 

The old timers were staying away. There was one other shopper who engaged the store manager in conversation. "I was here on the first day you opened, you know", he said. The manager nodded, with a semi-polite half-smile. Of course he wasn't there when it opened. That was a long time ago. The store manager must have been eligible for a half-ticket at Safire when Hemu Ramaiah set up this store. She made sure that once you get down the steps and past the door on the right, you could transport yourself to a different world - or worlds. It didn't feel like half-a-basement at all. One could sit there all day and browse - yes, browse. In the days before Netscape Navigator, Hemu's Landmark would take you all over the wide world. 

Landmark was then a break from the past, but now, a throwback to another era. No bookstore before it tolerated anyone - school and college kids the least of all - flipping through their books. And here was the staff practically shoving a book into your hands and telling you to take your time reading it. It is difficult to believe that for 19 of the 26 years it has been around, the store has been competing against the Internet. The memories of those first seven years were strong enough for many to turn up again and again at the first Landmark store, now spread across the entire basement of Apex Plaza. Indra Nooyi, it is said, used to make it a point to spend a couple of hours here every time she visited Madras/Chennai. She was only one of the many non-residents - Madrasis or otherwise - for whom the Nungambakkam Landmark was the place to visit. And browse. And browse.

The first time I bought a set of greeting cards from Landmark, I did not realize that I was taking the first step to losing the bookstore of my college days. Greeting cards were followed by other stationery items. Then came CDs. Toys. Games. Suddenly, books seemed to be an "also there" item. And then the Tatas bought the chain, in 2005. India's best bookstore, born of passion, boosted by the quiz, sustained by the loyalty of its Madras customers (who spread the word about it to their friends in Pune, Bengaluru and other places) had now completely transformed into a 'business'. The staff didn't know their books. (Or even music, or toys, for that matter). But they still let customers visitors browse through the books, and the Nungambakkam store was the best place to do that. 

Now it is gone. When the bargain hunters have cleared it out ("50% off!!" "Everything must go!!!"), I shall also be gone. I did not intend to walk into the store yesterday, but I did. And I picked up a few books, at random. I only had a vague idea of what I was doing, because memories of 26 years obscured the actions of the day. My eyes were moist; I could not look at the girl at the billing counter, who asked me if I had a loyalty card. "I am turning it in today", I thought. I suddenly felt very old. Good bye, Landmark. You've taken my youth with you.

Shop off

The Ispahani Centre, on Nungambakkam High Road, is certainly more modern than its (somewhat) namesake in George Town. But for all that, the history of Ispahanis in Madras continues to remain a mystery - at least for me!

Get the picture?

Once upon a time, the idly was a truly humble, workmanlike, everyday dish. Fairly simple to cook, and in volumes, it continues to be the staple breakfast at many a south Indian home. But there had to be variants. The Kanchipuram idly was one of the earliest, and that set a trend for place-name idlies, including a Thanjavur idly and the now-ubiquitous Madurai (Murugan) idly. 

But Kushboo idly? At least the place-name idlies had some differentiators originally, arising from local ingredients being used. And of course, rava idly or stuffed idlies do not tax your imagination. But Kushboo idly? Could it be along the lines of the MLA pesarattu? Or is it like that famous Chiranjeevi dosa one used to get at Chutney's in Hyderabad? The story goes that the actor had tried out the steamed variant of the dosa at his house and had the method perfected before sharing it with Chutney's. 

Of course I have been curious as to the twist that Kushboo has given idly. I suspect there is none, however. And the reviews about this restaurant in Nungambakkam are so dismal that I am not tempted to go there and find out!

Mill Hill Church

I don't think that's really true, calling this a "Mill Hill Church". Although it was the Mill Hill Missionaries who took charge of the parishes of Nungambakkam and Vepery sometime in the early 20th century, their hold on it remained only for about 20 years or so. In 1930, the control of these parishes was passed on to the Padroado Portugues do Oriente  (the protection of the King of Portugal). 

St Teresa's Church, which is the one being discussed, stands on Nungambakkam High Road. It is said this was originally a small chapel within the Bishop of Madras' house and that it began to grow only after the Mill Hill-ers took charge. The chapel was elevated to the level of a parish church in 1912 (and a centenary celebration is called for?) and has continued its growth since.

The Mill Hill-ers handed over the church to the Padroado in 1930. By that time, however, the Padroado was itself in the wane, what with the Padroado Real having given way to the Padroado Portugues do Oriente. The last vestiges of the Padroado disappeared in 1999 when Macau was handed over to China; but in Nungambakkam, this church (and the parish) was moved to the Archdiocese of Madras-Mylapore sometime in the 1950s itself!

Look out, above!

The idea was to get disabled-friendly, I guess. A ramp leading to an elevator which goes up to the overhead road crossing will certainly help senior citizens and those on wheel chairs to get across to the other side.

The shutters are still locked up, waiting for a formal inauguration. Would they open to allow everyone in? Or is there someone going to watch over the entrance and open it only for those who "really need" to use the elevator? Does anyone use this crossing at all?

Actually the first person who used the new construction was someone who got on top of it last week and threatened to jump off - luckily the Fire Service personnel got him before he leapt!

A little shop

For the Madrasi Paan connoisseurs, there are only a couple of places for that ultimate, ideal, paan. Of course, each of them has his or her own favourites, but if any of them has passed on the paan from this shop on Nungambakkam High Road, s/he cannot claim to be a true lover of the leaf. Did I say Madrasi? Mistake. This shop is pretty well known across India, to anyone who has visited Chennai and has felt the urge for an after-dinner refresher - the host would know that, with this shop, he can't go wrong!

Early evening, the homebound office goer chomps on a bit of luxury; the cops ignore the two-wheelers that are parked while the riders select their favourites from the menu. Later in the evening, the two-wheelers would be replaced by four-wheelers, including the Audis, the BMWs and the Mercedes - the lure of an after-dinner paan from Calcutta Pan Shop is too strong for anyone to resist!

The Eater's Digest - 5

The area around Gemini Circle is teeming with offices. Many of the office complexes here were built at a time when cafeterias in offices was an unheard-of concept. Chances are the employees wouldn't have liked it, too, because they were used to bringing lunch in their tiffin carriers; an all purpose 'lunch room', which doubled up as storage space and many a time as a nice snooze spot was all they asked for, so the multiple storeys of the tiffin carriers could be spread around and maybe a communal lunch had with the colleagues.

As the pace of the workaday increased, lunch from home became a rare luxury; add to that the Parsn Manere coming up as an office complex for small businesses, many of them were just half the size of a lunch room anyway. That's when there was an explosion of lunch options within half-a-kilometre radius of the Gemini Circle. They included roadside vendors, lunch deliveries, dinky little vehicles with candy-stripe awnings that would drive up, park and unfold their wares at lunch time only. Many of those options, especially the step-out-of-office-to-eat ones, died out quickly. Palimar is one of the survivors from that era of the 1980s.

Of course, the food is not what it used to be. Somehow Palimar seemed to be always opening another restaurant somewhere else; those would be good for a while, but would then shut down rather quickly. With so much of attention focussed on the new locations, the quality at the 'original' Palimar has kept on its downward track, more's the pity!

The Eater's Digest - 4

This was one of the 'happening' places in Chennai, in those days when Coke and Pepsi could be seen only in Hollywood movies and pizza was what Cakes & Bakes gave us. Good to see they are still going strong!

Marked down almost always

It was known as a value-for-money name in the UK, where it was born. But I have always thought of it as an expensive label, after I visited their store in Hong Kong almost a dozen years ago - the first time that I had been in a Marks & Spencer store. Maybe it was something to do with the firm using only British inputs for their products which made them so high priced in Asia. Whatever the reason may be, that memory stayed; when M&S opened their store in Chennai in 2005, I really did not think about shopping there. Thinking about it now, their store location was probably a good tactical choice - on paper. The shop that operated there earlier, Haneef Brothers - Famco - was one where you could go in to get some real good deals, a favourite during college days. Maybe M&S wanted that association to continue; but for me, they appeared even more expensive because of where they were.

Maybe they were actually very expensive initially. Probably they didn't get the kind of traffic that they wanted to, because, in a very short while, the store had gone into a promo mode. Everytime I went past, the store seemed to have a different kind of a sale on: regular bogofs, "buy 3 take 2 free", "40% off". The names changed, but Marks & Spencer seemed to be in some kind of desperation to get people into the store. In my case, it has taken three years of wearing down, going through the stages of thinking that I'd buy there at the next sale, no, the one after....

And then I finally did it last week. Now I'm thinking... three decent shirts for Rs.2000/- is not that bad, after all!

At a higher level

Well, it did look like a police flatbed truck. I may be mistaken, for the Chennai City Traffic Police uses them but very rarely and moving an illegally parked car is not something that the mighty flatbed would be rousted out for. Moving an illegally parked car is probably against the CCTP's standard operating procedure. On almost all occasions, vehicles parked illegally are immobilized with a wheel clamp, and the vehicle owner will have to wait there until the policemen get back to the place again in their tow truck.

The tow truck itself appears to be more for its showpiece value than any help in actually dragging away cars. There is enough space on the truck to place a few motorcycles after physically lifting them up from where they were parked. Even then the tow winch will remain idle, the lifting will be done by one of the policemen with help from parking lot attendents and maybe even passers by.

Which is why this seems to be a special case of illegal parking. Maybe I'm being too uncharitable. It could also be the police were helping out a driver, stranded because his car had a problem. What, do you think, happened?

Next to Godliness

The gambit of using religious imagery to stop people from dirtying some spots has been around for a long while. Chennai has always been a reasonably God-fearing city so it is no surprise to see a sign like this, asking people to not dirty the wall and to refrain from putting up slogans or posters on it. The imagery of the three major religions broadbases the appeal (and maybe to remind folks that all roads lead to God, or something like that?).

Chennai, as I said, has always been a God-fearing city. People here are considered more devout than the norm. One big reason for this could be the greater prevalence of visible 'caste-marks' such as the tuft of hair at the crown or the use of naamam on the forehead among the Hindus. Even senior executives in various offices, or senior public service officers used to be very comfortable sporting some such marks; in my experience, such display is only on some festival day in other large cities of India.

Whatever that may be, the appeal here seems to have worked. This part of Jagannathan Street, just off Nungambakkam High Road used to be far more messy. I don't know when this mural came up, but it has definitely made the place much cleaner!

Our man for Zambia

The Tamil Nadu state government website lists only 15 'embassies' in Chennai - some of them are honorary consuls, but only one is listed as such. The website of the Union Ministry of External Affairs lists 25 honorary consuls as being present in Chennai. Neither of these websites have updated the events that led to this small board coming up on Nungambakkam High Road at the end of May 2008.

The Hindu did report the setting up of this honorary consulate. Mr S.R.Krishnan, who occupies at least part of the 2nd floor of Rosy Tower, has been described as the "the right person in the right place at the right time" by the High Commissioner. It took a bit of poking around to find out that Mr. Krishnan is a Director in a steel company. He must have been engaging quite a bit with the country - it is heartening to find that someone in Chennai has been doing so much work in Zambia, that the country has appointed him its honorary consul here!