This is a house in a residential colony at Velachery in Chennai. What is striking about the image is the paint – fluorescent paint – in ghastly colours. This is a recent trend observed in different parts of the city. These colours are not so pleasant to eyes. Yet there could be reasons why people go for such paints. In some apartments, only the frontage is painted with such colours. Some sources say it has got to do with Vaastu.

Vaastu is considered significant in India as it is an ancient science on the use and correctness of the space. A friend tells me that such fluorescent paints are sold as Vaastu paints by paint companies to dispose of their not so fast moving shades. The second image is that of a mansion at Triplicane ( bachelor’s quarters in Triplicane area are called mansions).

The third image is a shopping complex coming up at Taramani Road which houses Peter England showroom in the ground and first floor. The frontage painted with fluorescent shade paint.

A search in google with “Vaastu – Colours” throws some 55,800 entries. One such site www.http://www.sereneinteriors.com/colors-and-vastu.html  correlates colours with Zodiac signs as below :

Zodiac sign Colors suggested
Aries                            Coral red
Taurus                         Milky white
Gemini                         Green
Cancer                         Rose red, pearl white
Leo                              Ruby red, dim white
Virgo                           Emerald green
Libra                            Cement color, milky white
Scorpio                        Pink, coral red
Sagittarius                   Golden yellow
Capricorn                     Dim red
Aquarius                      Pink, blue
Pisces                          Yellow, pure white

The same site also bring out the colors compatible with the directions.

It is common belief in this part of the world that certain colours are lucky, brings good fortune and certain colours bring ill luck. The marriage invitations are still printed in yellow colour and obituaries are bordered in black.

But why this sudden craze for fluorescent shades ?

Could it be true that paint companies are selling their slow moving shades by calling them Vaastu Paints ?

An array of soft dolls, toys on display on the car backs at Pondy Bazaar, T Nagar. All display and sales happen on the roadside and the display changes in an instant when the parked vehicle leaves to the next car.

Every year starting April 16^th, there is a ban on fishing in the Tamilnadu Coast from Thiruvallur to Kanyakumari Districts. Since scientists found fish breeding to be active in the eastern coastal belt during April and May, fishing by mechanised boats from Thiruvallur to Kanyakumari districts is prohibited between April 15 and May 29. The ban excludes fishing by country boats and catamarans.

The ban has come at a time when the heat was on the rise in Chennai. The sea food is an alternative to those who cannot consume meat during the Chennai heat. Because of the ban, the fish prices have gone through the roof. According to “The Hindu” retail plus of May 25,2008, seer fish is priced at Rs 300 to Rs 420 a kilo, Squids can range from Rs.80 to Rs.100 a kilo. Mackeral should be around Rs.100 a kilo while pomfret would range from Rs.200 to Rs.280 depending on size and colour. Crabs in season would cost Rs.160 per kilo but the price is dependent on the variety – like mud crabs, spotted ones,

If one is an early riser and visits the nearest beach, the day’s catch can be bought from the fisherman at a decent price. On this day, the fisherman was trying to sell the prawns  at Rs 8/- a piece. A morning walker in the beach was negotiating forRs 6/- a piece and settled for Rs 7/- a piece.

With the ban on fishing by mechanized boats ended on May 29, 2008 the supply of fish has increased and there are reports that the prices have started coming down.

(During a visit to Thiruvanmiyur beach on June 8, 2008, the visuals of the fishermen coming to the shore with their catch were shot and these images are posted here.)

1. Loving Tamil

I love it when people around me speak the same language I do. The year I spent in Hyderabad, I always felt like an alien because I had to struggle with my rustic Hindi. Thankfully, auto drivers were polite to me. Often I would long to speak Tamil at home and all my four roommates back then were Malayalees. Chennai became second home to me largely because its population is on the same page I am.

2. Movies in multiplexes

I was ecstatic when the state government passed the order asking multiplexes not to price movie tickets beyond Rs 120 in Chennai. This is the only order passed by MK that I love him for. My movie addiction is much lesser than what it used to be, but at least my fledging film reviewing career is taking off thanks to the multiplexes, especially Satyam. I recently read how Satyam overprices its popcorn to subsidise the ticket. I love that. I don’t have to buy popcorn to watch a movie despite all the rubbish about how the both go together.

3. Roasting in the sun

I actually love the city’s climate. If it rains around the year, I would feel blue. I know the Chennai climate-haters well and why they love to hate the heat here. But for me, the summers, and lately, the extended monsoons are a continuing source of joy.

4. Marina in the morning

I love Marina at 4 am. Sometimes after my night shifts, I walk to the beach from my house in Triplicane. Winding my way up Triplicane’s dirty streets has a pay off in the end. At that hour, you can’t quite see the beach. You just know it’s there. Sometimes you can catch the surf. It needs someone with more than my vocabulary to tell you how this feels. I might make it corny.

5. Piracy

Everything, they say, is fake in cities and true and genuine in villages. For once, the fakes are better and cheaper that the real thing. My hometown of Nagercoil is no more a virgin market when it comes to piracy, especially MP3s, but no one there yet sells DVDs of Korean and Iranian films. You got to love Chennai for its rampant piracy. Well, at least you got to love piracy because a Sony movie on DVD costs Rs 600. Moser Baer yet doesn’t have a good collection.

6. Food

I love the food here. It’s always good value for money. Eatalica, French Loaf, Murugan Idly Shop, and the scores of Andhra messes and Kaiyendhi Bhavans in and around Triplicane are my favourite haunts. I fell in love with Idly in Chennai something I continue to be embrassed about. I used to fuss about that back home.

7. Bloggers

For a while, Chennai was the blogging capital of India. I don’t know who started that rumour, but even if that claim isn’t true anymore, there are bloggers here, and a lot of them. I have met a few offline and they are funnier and often genuine, articulate people. After helping to organize the first blog camp, the Roof Top Film Festivals, and the blogger meets at my place, I realise I love my fellow bloggers in the city as much I love blogging itself. One of the last things I did was go on a photowalk. For some stuck with a desk job, a photowalk can be a lively thing, and it certainly was for me.

8. Steeped in culture

Every city is defined by its culture more than its politics or climate. Perhaps only geography defines cities as much as culture. Like Hawaii is defined by its proximity to the beach, Chennai is defined by its culture, which even at its most degraded and corrupt is still something to soak in. So city-like and I love it. When I was in Thiruvanmaiyur, it was a thrill catching girls driving bikes with the Salangai still tied to their legs.

9. Hangouts

Then there are the hangouts. Like Amethyst, which is a palace, and clothes stores like Fab Mall (where I haven’t bought a thing) and West Side. Books stores like Landmark and Odyssey. Cinema Paradiso. You really can find a thousand places like that in Chennai. Some of them are big brands and are probably present across cities. But I will always associate West Side with Chennai and my shopping experience of the city. I am sure you have a couple of places you love. May be the teashop down the road?

For the lack of time, I end my story here. You are welcome to add your list. Just make it personal, if at all that has to be told to you.

Die-hard Chennaites will love this… the morning newspapers are being delivered ahead of the milk in many areas in the city. Many friends have reported that they are receiving their papers by 5 am. Of the three major dailies one is being delivered at 5, another a few minutes behind , while the third is tossed by 6 am.

What is more, the 5 am drop beats even the e-paper delivery… I personally checked out. My Delhi-based popular daily’s e-paper is `delivered’ on some days at 5.40, others at 5.20 ad sometimes at 6 in my mailbox, but is yet to touch the 5 am benchmark!!!

It is common knowledge that Times of India is set to launch its edition in the coming weeks and the existing print media is gearing up for competition. It is widely speculated that more upcountry papers may look at the Chennai paper –pie in the coming years.

All of which is good news for the Chennaivasi !! An advertising source tells me that the metro has one of the largest newspaper readership figures, both in English and the vernacular. Unfortunately I could not get the exact figures to share with you all.

As of now the paper boy is ahead of not only the electronic delivery, but is also beating the milkman hollow. (I am referring to door delivery, of course, although we all know we can get a packet of milk at any milk both even at 4. 30 in the morning).

Good news, all told, I guess.

To many, Chennai might seem a city of glass and chrome (or huts and slush if you look at it another way). Of multistoried apartments, software pottis, cut-outs, corporate structures, sweeping financial tides and sky-scrapers. Old-timers might mourn the loss of many traditions now long lost … but there are still a few left, which bring up a tsunami of memories. Not to mention the fact that a huge industry exists, based on centuries old tradition, right under our very noses. It’s composed of a set of rules, properly followed, a large turnover, and teeming hordes of industrious workers who make sure its wheels turn smoothly.

They’re the flower-sellers of Chennai.

They’re usually part of a blink-and-you-miss act in the usual routine of the average Chennaiite; they’re around in the mornings or evenings, dressed in well-worn saris, toting a huge basket filled with every kind of native flowers that the landscape has to offer. The women of the house are the ones who generally look out for these flower-ladies, checking their wares of jasmine, kadhambam, roses, saamandhi and every other colourful, fragrant blossom in the bloom-spectrum. And that’s just the first part of the process. The other consists of haggling over the prices, groaning over the steadily increased rates, sighing over the days when flowers were practically free, or grown in one’s gardens … and then coming to certain conclusions about what to buy, what not to, sharing some good-natured gossip about the worldly happenings, and then going each other’s way.

And that’s just the simple part.

What’s much more complicated is the intricate web of commerce that connects all of them together. Meenatchi, a 50ish flower-seller who frequents the streets of Alapakkam, is one of the important cogs that help the system run efficiently. She’s aware of the fact too – right down to the finesse of speech that categorizes down-to-earth people such as her.

“Selling flowers makes me independent,” she says nonchalantly, measuring a length of jasmine against her arm for Rs 10. “My children are all grown up now and settled – and I need a source of income to see me through. What I earn here is more than enough.”

Her days start early enough, and at Koyambedu, the perennial flower-market that’s the parent body for these smaller sellers. “I go around the streets surrounding the Meenakshi dental College, and right up to Valasaravakkam,” she divulges. “People are always fond of flowers – so I’ve no trouble selling mine.”

For Vasanthi, part of a sister-duo that takes the Nungambakkam beat, things aren’t so easy. “Where have I got the time to stop and chat?” she asks breathlessly, as I try to get her to into a conversation. “I’m up from 4 in the morning, and I have to get my business done by 7 AM,” she rattles, handing out bunches of roses and lotuses to a long queue of customers. Incredibly, her prices are even higher than Meenatchi’s. “Well, it’s a muhurtha day,” she explains, though her eyes drop. “And I’m already sold out – must get more from my sister.” She hurries away before I can question the atrocity of getting two lotuses for twenty rupees. “What can I do?” she calls out. “The prices at the market are so high.”

Deciding that this mysterious market of theirs warranted investigation, I made plans for an expedition to the famed Koyambedu flower-market, the common supplying-point for many of the flower-sellers that swept over the cityscape. Earlier based in Parrys, this focal point had shifted sometime ago to Koyambedu, a sprawling cement structure where I discovered, much to my amazement, that one entire building, the size of a good-sized southern Tamil temple, was wholly occupied by the Koyambedu Malar Angadi – the Flower Market.

At 9 AM, and already sweltering in the morning’s heat, I stepped over the flat stone steps that led into the building – and was immediately engulfed into the madness that was quintessentially Koyambedu. Huge garlands of rose and white flowers were strung on nails on the outer-most stalls, while inside, several pathways led into cooler interiors. I stepped gingerly on the plantain leaves and general rubbish that lined the stone floors, and into one such alley-way.

Row upon row of every kind of flower in the city met my astonished gazes. There were fragrant roses, heaps of jasmine, mounds of yellow and orange saamandhi teetering upon the low cement platforms, small shops that sold only plantain rope and twine to tie up the flowers, packets of white flowers, and bowls of eye-catching orange kanagambaram … the list was endless. A thick, cool scent hung about the halls, and though cobwebs and posters of cine-stars decorated the dank walls, the colourful array of blooms more than made up for it.

I probably looked very conspicuous picking my way through the flowers, as one seller after another first threw wary looks at me, and then tempted me with little bunches of Marikozhunthu and kathirpachai. One or two, though, despite the hectic pace and crowds milling about, were more than willing to chat.

“Our day starts at three AM,” revealed Pazhani, who sat beside heaps of kanagambaram, weighing it out in his scales. “The earlier, the better. The lorries come by with their loads of flowers and unload; we get our stock and settle down here. By two or three in the afternoon, our business is pretty much done.” As I watch, a ser, or 350 gms of flowers goes for about Rs 20. Jasmine is much dearer, at Rs 50 a ser for small buds, and Rs 100 a ser for slightly bigger ones.

Why did they still use such old-fashioned measurements?

“Makes the flower-sellers feel better,” grins Pazhani in a gap-toothed fashion. “The kilo-system is better for us, but they feel like they’re getting a better bargain at these prices. Which they are.”

At another little stall (just cement floors separated by a small barrier), a boy sits hawking fresh red roses. “How much?” I ask, filled with trepidation, as I’d been quoted outrageous prices just the day before. “100 for Rs 15,” he says indifferently. “How many do you want?”

I stand and gape. “A hundred roses? Really?”

He gives me a pitying glance. “How many?”

I stagger away with a bag full of flowers, still marveling at the prices that floated around a wholesale market. Along the way, an old man sits with a basket full of what looked like folds of velvet. “Kolikondai,” he informs me, as I look curious. “They look like the headpiece on a hen’s head, you see – that’s why they’re named so.” They were not for sale on a piece-by-piece basis, but sold as baskets to garland-makers.

As I continued my tour along the dark paths, diligent flower-sellers sprinkled water on dropping blooms, hawked clusters of roses artfully packaged in wrappers for valentine’s day, sewed elaborate threads and flowers for wedding garlands, ate dosais for a late breakfast at a make-shift restaurant right at their feet, watched TV on old Dyanora television sets and chatted about the day’s business.

It was a world unto itself, with its own rules, regulations, timings, and citizens. And when I finally stepped around a weary lotus-seller, I felt like I’d taken a piece of that dark, perfumed universe within me.

Back home, I harangued with a morose Kalyani, as she tried to sell me 10 roses for Rs 15. “It’s not fair, you going off to Koyambedu to buy things,” she huffed.

“Why do you sell at such atrocious prices, then?”

“Well, consider our costs – we have to travel back and forth, lug around our loads, walk all over the city and sell these to you,” she argued. “Makes it up for all of that, right?”

We argued with each other a little more, and along better lines, a discussion of the latest movies, actors and economy thrown in for good measure. By the end of this heart-warming talk, we’d decided that if she sold her roses for less, I’d promise never to visit the flower-markets again. “It isn’t right for you to snatch my business,” she sniffed. “Don’t I bring you just the kind of flowers you like, and just when you need them?”

This was quite true. Kalyani had a knack for anticipating the household needs – a sort of human flower-robot.

And thus did we come to our amicable conclusions – because that is the world of a flower-seller, you see, and no matter their prices, they still have a smile for us, and an ear to lend our cares.

Perhaps that’s a trait they’ve inherited from their beloved flowers, after all.

While at a friendly get-together yesterday evening, it seemed like all the conversations revolved around the changing landscape of Chennai. I whispered under my breathe to a friend that it seems real-estate is the hot topic for the day, to which he made a public announcement that its always a topic, because either we bought it and are hoping the prices will remain this way (or better yet keep rising), or we cant afford and we are just jealous. I am wondering if there is truth to it – there might be.

So the truth of the matter is this. To buy a house or land in Chennai right now is more expensive that buying property in Dubai or singapore. You can buy a luxury condomonium in Malaysia for 40 lakhs. In chennai, for that same style and comfort, you will be spending atleast 2 crores and upwards. The funnier part was when a friend asked “So whats the fun in having a luxury condominium right in the middle of nowhere without any infrastructural amenities around?”. Well, I dont think we have options. We are all speculating and trusting the voices of the real estate agents and seeing their pretty visualizations that eventually, someday, this place too can be turned into a buzzing hub with a stone throw access to every amenity possible. Not every one of those wishes might come true, but most of them probably will.For example, I hear that there is a mega mall that is coming up on OMR road. And there was also talks that there is a new golf course which is either close to being opened or has already started in OMR.

But Lets get down to the dilemma of the common man. Most houses today are financed by banks. I don’t think people are sitting on ready cash piles of 40 – 60 lakhs for a good house. I am not sure people are in a hurry to buy houses. Then why are land prices escalating so much? There certainly must be hoards of people who are driving up the demand and prices right? For one, the culprit seems to be the land lords. If there is one such union which brings them all together, they need to be visited and looked after. Rental prices have gone up, that in my own case, the price will be jumping to 100% by the end of this year, compared to what i paid last year. It has left me sitting here and wondering that if I had paid all the money that I paid as rent as a down payment, the monthly mortgage that I have to pay the bank would be still lower than the rent that I am asked to pay. That is the main reason why most folks are looking to buy as of now.

The good news is that there are lessons to learn from around us. Mumbai used to be this way sometime back, followed by Bangalore. The landprices, I am told, have come down by 30% in bangalore in some pockets, especially now that there are major infrastructure overhauls happening, such as the moving away of the airport to some remote destination.Matters as such will eventually happen in Chennai as well, and will be followed by a drop in land prices.

I am sure most of you who are reading this and do have any interest in real estate have heard that MARG has announced apartments from 10 Lakhs and upwards. I am doing the math backwards and wondering if its a 20 year loan and they have to payback close to 50 thousand (without the interest) a year, there are going to be quite a lot of significant takers and it probably would also have the risk of being over-crowded. I also hear of a project by DLF where they are building 4000 apartments in a complex, with three layers of parking alone. Imagine that!

I am thinking that it is the twitchy middle class that is making most of the noise. Most of the folks on the lower spectrum, or lower middle class are happy living in not-so-hip places. The traditionally wealthy ones do own their bungalows in Adyar, Nungambakkam, Boat club area and the likes. Its the newly rich, as always, that is making a ruckus. There is no place to buy, that would suit “the lifestyle”, and OMR right now seems to be the haven for them.

OMR eventually does have the prospect of becoming the new and modern wing of Chennai, if the traffic on that road will remain sensible.

So to the question that is nagging all of us. The market is driven by speculation and ofcourse I plan to fuel and extinguish atleast a part of it. *drums roll* “Will the market prices for houses come down?” Most probably, Yes. But we dont know when and by the time the market prices do come down, your rent might have gone up by 500%. Time is running out, and that’s the problem. It’s this very dilemma which is driving prices through the roof. Can anyone do something about it?

potum: Via Ravages, aka. Chandrachoodan

History: Muthiah

When I moved into Chennai in 99, my classmate took me to Higginbothams to buy books. It wasn’t strange that we didn’t choose Landmark, which was already a much bigger store. After all, my granddad had fond memories of Higginbothams also because they sold the books he had written and the magazine he founded and edited.

I wasn’t disappointed at all. I spend close to two hours in the classics session. I had no money, so I tried to read.

Today, that bookstore is a pale shadow compared to what Landmark, and to a lesser extent, Odyssey have become. But still don’t you love that building?

I am not talking of paid sex. I am talking of live-in relationships, casual sex, sex of the kind the Pope doesn’t recommend.

A recent post on Valentine’s Day had this blog’s ‘devoted’ commentators exchanging barbs. V-Day, one reader finds, promotes one-night stands. One group calls the other immoral and in turn gets called chauvinistic.

But how moral are we? Going by the crime reports I read in the paper, this is not a population that avoid extra marital sex. Husbands kill cheating wives and women with the help of their “illicit lovers” occasionally manage to murder a husband or two. If we constantly sleep outside marriage, why not sleep before it? I know the point of the report is the murder, but I can’t help thinking of all the instances when sex provoked it.

Tamil culture is not homogeneous if I know anything about it. Nothing in our history or literature suggests one way or the other.

I don’t know of many girls who want to get laid and are willing it to calling it by that name. Guys on the other hand want to, at least to be cool. But do they? Or do they remain sexually anxious until their marriage? What do you think?

This is not the case with this restaurant alone. There are quite a few places which are like this. There is simply nothing which creates a longing to visit the place again. Rainforest in Adyar, Eden in Besant Nagar, New Yorker in Nungabakkam, Copper Chimney and French Loaf to name a few. This list would include most restaurants in the city.

With the concept of dining gaining prominence, the emphasis on food is being lost I feel. The food should create a longing in me, that sadly is becoming hard to find along with fine dining. The longing is there in Mathsya for instance, otherwise it’s the domain of roadside eateries like idiyappan in Pichupillai street and Brilliant Masala Dosai. This longing is also there in bare bones restaurants like National Lodge or Maris. For now its roadside zindabad.