Its eons since we have lounged on sandy beach. We do go to the souqs but today, got to unwind on Wakra souq beach. No thenga manga pattani sundal here. Only the absolute stillness. The beauty of the arab countries is their elusive silence without the street ruckus that is common in India or elsewhere. We just sat back by the backwaters wherefrom some mounds of salt pans showed belly up. I saw flights leave and flights home in. One flight was losing altitude steadily in the same spot. No I don’t think this one was landing. I guess, this is one of the crossover flights to yet another gulf airport flying through the airspace. As a frequent air traveler I always pay specific attention when flights lose height in one spot or climb up gradually in the same spot or arch their wing, tilt up and take a turn. I don’t have to watch out through my cabin window. I just know how it feels like. I guess I know every sensation that is carried with every single motion of an aircraft. In silence, I unwound my legs in the sand with my hands pushed back behind me watching the spectacular show of the planes every few minutes.. A couple of camels rested afar. Children were playing noiselessly in the distance. Even the sidewalk cafes with their guests dining on club chairs on cobblestoned paths stood quiet. This kind of silence is golden, something again unthinkable in India. The unpolluted clean environs can do something to your heart that it may want to sing. To savour such an unspoilt moment, I have to get out of Chennai city limits, to ECR.
Beach sands and airplanes brought once more memories of growing up in Mylapore. Our house was the tallest in the street when I was in the primary school. I guess I have blogged on this, but we always went to bed after a darshan of Kapali temple tower from our kitchen window and Kesava Perumal temple tower (near Chitrakulam) from the balcony. We enjoyed this special privilege until my mom’s time – that is 1982. Buildings that later came up robbed us of our glorious daily darshan on dawn.
Our terrace on second floor carried with it loads of awesome memories.
From here, I have watched once the Kapaleeshwara temple Kumbabishegam with binoculars. Even the temple Car could be seen moving – it so happens that we are having the Panguni festival now. Two spires vied with each other for our views in the open ‘mottaimadi.’ One was of course Kapali temple tower, 1 km afar. The other magnificent one at a distance was the Santhome church steeple itself.
The crowning glory would be the rotating lighthouse beam that would pass through our terrace – at a distance of over 3 km at least, every few minutes. This light would be visible only when it would be completely dark. For me, the act of catching the light beam on my arm or face for a micro fraction of a second from the light house was like winning a gold medal in Olympics. I and my friends used to count the number of times we could catch the light beam that would pass within a moment like mirage before you knew it.
How many flights we used to count. Rare sightings were the jet. Kok kok paalaadai every single evening. Walk to the Santhome beach almost every single day in summer vacations. (Mornings were always reserved for Kapali & His Missus). The beach was still accessible with radio playing from the small circular structure situated in the middle of the sands.
Slowpaced life with all its goodness. I miss that kind of heaven terribly now. The small happiness of Panneer soda and Rose milk from Kalathi kadai. Mottaimadi. Everything.
Did I ever dream that some day in future I would be flying in and out so much. And I am the CEO of my Home Corporation hahaha!
Once upon a time in my life, I looked up at the airplane wide-eyed. Now flights tire me.
I am stepping back to take a close look at the little girl who would try to catch as many light beams as possible within her outstretched palms. It must have felt like ‘oru koodai sunlight oru koodai moonlight’ totally!
vijiravindran's 