Vignettes from the Streets of Tamil Nadu
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This article is contributed by Maazin Buhari, a Politics, Economics and Social Sciences student at the University Of Edinburgh.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any members of im.prof.
India is a nation of paradoxes, opposites and polarizing dualities. Nowhere are these better represented than in my state of Tamil Nadu, South India; a state where penury juxtaposes almost naturally with opulence, as if it is perfectly normal to have Jaguars and BMWs plying the streets right next to street urchins and beggars.
Maazin.
Take my own hometown as an example - Kilakarai, a large village of roughly 60,000 inhabitants. Kilakarai individuals have been able to make fairly decent successes of themselves in business and entrepreneurship. They have built dozens of large bungalows in their native township, often returning in the last 10 days of every year for a visit. The remaining 355 days, it becomes a glamorous ghost town that still suffers from basic problems like dealing with sewage and sanitation. May the divine blessings always be with Kilakarai!
''Tamil Nadu revolves around sensation, revolves around drama, revolves around legends”
-Rollo Romig in ‘What Happens When A State Is Run by Movie Stars? (July 2005)
Tamil Nadu is a state where politics is a career progression for has-been actors, and the masses care more about those in power on the big screen than those who control their welfare benefits; thus making everyday life for some of us observers, incredibly fascinating.
Fringing on the edge of an unprecedented economic boom, Tamil Nadu is set to become a manufacturing and tourist powerhouse - but it does retain its grimy, unpretentious charm alongside the glitzy new Starbucks and reliable industrial power plants. Something about molecular gastronomy rasam and inspired, deconstructed thayir sadam, simply blows my mind.
While the most happening summer of my life slowly comes to an end, touring the bustling metros of Western Europe to exploring the small, colourful villages of Southern Tamil Nadu, it has given me time to reflect and arrive at two disconnected, yet pertinent, conclusions. One, the fact that I am undoubtedly addicted to travelling, and two, Tamil Nadu is a lot more interesting than it's given credit for.
There's Thoothukudi (anglicized; Tuticorin).
Tuticorin Thermal Power Station (Source)
A port city located on the south eastern tip of India. Colloquially known as the pearl city, Tuticorin used to be known for its booming pearl industry, and today it’s a charming, grimy little industrial municipality littered with thermal power plants (interestingly enough, I spent a week at one, learning the ins and out of mechanical, chemical and electrical engineering - before heading to study political science in the summer, but that's for a later story.)
Dotted around the power plants are small fishing villages that thrive off the city's booming salt trade. What makes Tuticorin interesting is that, while in some parts of the town one can drive through an Orwellian industrial wasteland, with towering, ash covered chimneys and greying cement factories; on the other half of the town exists a beautiful harbour that hosts one of the world’s richest marine biosphere reserves (where I had the golden opportunity to go scuba diving last week). The powerful dualism offered by Tuticorin is unique, and difficult to imagine anywhere else in the world.
Close to Tuticorin, around 150 kilometers off the coast is historic temple town called Madurai.
The Tirumalai Nayak palace, Madurai (Source)
I must have passed through this city on my way to other destinations at least a few dozen times in the past, but for the first time I was able to stop and actually explore the area, to see what it's all about. From the famous Madurai 'jigarthanda' to Thirumalai Nayakkar Palace, 4 hours in Madurai was reminiscent of my 30 hours spent in Paris. Both offering a cultural and sensory overload, with every street corner and alleyway filled with life and sound, it was sensational.
What peeved me about Madurai, and made me realize a problem persists in India; people cultural heritage and newly burgeoning that exists within the fabric of India talent have not been preserved or maintained. Thirumalai Nayakkar Palace is a centuries old palace that was built to house a regal Madurai emperor, during the peak of his rule. Dravidian style architecture, built by an Italian architect incorporating Islamic influences, the Palace was once the crowning beauty of Madurai and the Nayaka Dynasty. Now barely a quarter of the original palace remains, and what does exist is in a dilapidated condition, with artifacts and statues from the 9th to 17th century being strewn around like worthless junk rather than the priceless antiques that they are. With Indian artifacts being glorified and exalted at the Louvre, why cannot we do the same on the home front? Perhaps what we need along with infrastructure development is a paradigm shift of mindset and character.
On the foothills of the Western Ghats, and the border of the state of Kerala, is Coutrallam.
A valley town famous for its lush green landscapes, cascading waterfalls and dynamic mountainous jungle backdrop, a town that would have been exquisitely breathtaking if it was not for the skid-marks of unashamed human activity and destruction. A town where centuries old waterfalls fall into filthy ponds strewn with shampoo packets and beer bottles, mixed with food waste and sewage. One really learns to appreciate the good, only when it is juxtaposed with the bad. But, perhaps we need to be appreciative of this filth and grime, for if it were a spa-town treated akin to a paradise on Earth, foreign tourists aplenty would have made pilgrimage to Coutrallam and hiked up both the prices and take away with them any semblance of the local charm that its managed to preserve.
Tamil Nadu to me, is kind of like the recent summer hit movie Maari.
A film set to be completely thara local (ultra local), in every fiber of its being. The movie is about a local don born and bred in Triplicane, Chennai (yes, I was born there too, bred? maybe not). The movie on the surface seems like a plot-less masala filled with catchy songs and funny dialogue, but it is actually a lot more intelligent.
Maari, acts as an extremely well made meta-parody of every Tamil movie ever. Over-the-top protagonist with trusty side-kicks? Check. Catchy pop-based songs that will be overplayed on every radio station for the entirety of summer? Check. Tongue-in-cheek, slapstick humour that leaves the audience wanting more? Check. But the movie in fact sets out to be a subtle satire of Tamil cinema, while appealing to both the local audience as well as a more sophisticated clientele, leading it to gain somewhat of a cult status. Tamil Nadu, in a sense is quite similar. It's local and grimy, but infectious, cheeky and intelligent at the same time. It might not have much to offer to a person expecting surface level entertainment and mindless enjoyment, but to those who bother to dig a little deeper and work harder for their fun, it is one of the most charming places on the planet (Switzerland, who?).
Ultimately, perhaps this trip was a sort of cultural immersion, within my own culture. Attempting to get a pulse of the life and times that exist within the veins of the cities we only usually see from space. From eating ''the holy trinity'' of Tamilian food that is dosai, idlis and vadas, to exploring various rural and urban mosques all over the state, it has been a fantastic experience. Even though, I am not usually in the habit of trudging through the streets of tiny South Indian villages, for the sheer sense of exploration, I will be in the future - undoubtedly.