8. Major Changes- From Delhi to Chennai!

 

Life takes a beautiful turn, some say, and when it does, everything changes, mostly for the better. I often wonder how things can change without my consent? For all that my beliefs allow me to think, I know for a matter of fact that my destiny is my hands, and I will decide how my life will be. But I now realize that sometimes life comes with some questions and gives us a single track to find its answers. It may make you think that you’re the one choosing the path, or make you feel forced into it, but nobody knows who’s secretly planning what’s in store for you!

I’m not so much of an overthinker as it would seem, I would rather just choose to sway away with things beyond my control. It’s more like an interesting challenge, a puzzle, a mystery.

Indeed, there came a beautiful turn in my road, which led me to Chennai, the city of flyovers, as they say. But to me, it’s more like the city of sea breezes. Even in the scorching heat of the afternoon, I get to feel the cool breeze embracing my face and cuddling my hair, sending waves of relief, as opposed to the loo that you get in Delhi as a gift so much for stepping out of the house at around 1 or 2.

It’s just been about 7 months here and I’ve toured a lot of places locally, and some outstation, and have come to realize that metros are all same, but I still can’t say if I’m fully and comfortably settled. For all I know, I am a fan of north Indian cuisines, and to be surviving on dosas and idlis for an indefinite future, I have turned into this rajma deprived girl. Sambar is tasty though, no cribbing on that!

Having shifted here, my family now has a beautiful add on. My dearest pati aka my paternal grandma, who claims herself to be a 16-year-old beauty, has settled in with us. I often tease her with her age, fighting over 60 not 16, and she blushes and smirks and giggles and again claims to be 16. It is indisputably super cool for a cool grandma to be living with you, for all the lovely dishes she cooks, and the notorious childhood memories she reminisces with me before she hits the sack, when I sit with her and massage her legs.

There are some wonderful things I came across within a short period. Women here are fiercely independent. When it comes to something like driving, I’ve seen often times, men stare at women drivers in Delhi, but here, damn you! Every woman has her way out in the rush of the traffic, and they send out this vibe of don’t you dare mess with me! It feels good to know how wonderfully parents raise their daughters in this city, levelling them at par with the boys.

And talking about women, I wondered for a while how they manage to maintain their hair so well, and keep them shining black and fragrant forever. Very soon, my dadi revealed the greatest secret. Almost every street has a petite woman sitting on the footpath stitching jasmine flowers together into small strands, which most women tuck into their hair, leaving behind a beautiful fragrance that permeates from their tresses. Knowing this made me drift off to a time when I was 5. Pati would teach me how to string those flowers together. I was a quick learner indeed, but I would have to be taught the art every year and I would forget it as soon as I went back to Delhi.

Covid, classes and coastal floods are taking turns to keep me at home, but I’m too elated to have witnessed beautiful beach sunrises (Never mind if I had to wake up at 4:30 in the morning for that!), marvelous temple architectures and made some amazing friends.

Fingers crossed, I’m excited beyond bounds to further unravel the mysteries of this city!