We arrived in Chennai (which used to be named
Madras) early on Wednesday morning and settled into the Hotel Pandian. Then we set out to
get the rest of our train reservations (the computer only works sixty days in advance, so
we were not able to get all of our reservations in Delhi), and to visit the Madras
Government Museum, where we saw stone carvings and bronze statues.
In the afternoon, we were picked up by an
autorickshaw driver with whom we had pre-arranged for three hours of sight-seeing for 100
rupees. We visited Marina Beach, where a large stage was being erected for a political
rally, and the nearby San Thome Cathedral, where Saint Thomas the Apostle (Doubting
Thomas) is said to be buried [doubtful,
as even Thomas would attest]. We
drove by the Kapileeshwara Temple, stopping just long enough to take a picture, and then
visited the government Development Centre for Musical Instruments. I am interested in
obtaining an octave of tuned bulb horns (it’s a long story*** that
has nothing to do with India), and I hoped that someone here could help me. It turned out
to be simply a museum of classical Indian string instruments.
The autorickshaw driver had given us a good
price, and the reason turned out to be that he intended to take us to shop after shop,
where he would receive a commission for bringing in potential customers. So for the next
two hours Rita visited stores while I watched people go by in the streets outside. We
arrived back at the hotel after dark.
Thursday and Friday were occupied by report writing for me
and shopping for Rita. We hesitated to go far from the hotel on foot, because there was a
blockage in the sewer, and about 100 yards down the narrow street from the hotel was a
puddle of raw sewage that was splashed across the width of the road by every vehicle that
passed by.
On Saturday morning, we checked out of the hotel and boarded
a tour bus for Mamallapuram (Mahabalipuram), Pondicherry, and Auroville. As usual, the bus
spent over an hour waiting for and picking up passengers amid lots of grumbling from the
on-time passengers, and then we started south. We visited the Shore Temple, originally
built in the seventh century, and the Five Rathas (temples in the form of chariots), all
in Mamallapuram, and then headed for Pondicherry.
In Pondicherry, the tour allowed us fifteen minutes at the
beach and twenty minutes at the Sri Aurobindo Ashram. Rita went into the Ashram, while I
spent the time walking around town. My impression of Pondicherry was that of a
cleaner-than-average town with a high concentration of foreigners and beggars.
Our last stop was at the Matrimandir, the
spiritual center of Auroville, and the final resting place of the Mother. We were lined up
and marched single file through a gate, and then organized into a series of lines and told
that we were not allowed to carry anything, take pictures, or talk beyond that point. We
then set out single-file through a well-maintained green area full of potted plants toward
the Matrimandir itself, a concrete sphere with large gold-colored disks attached to the
outside. It is still under construction and has scaffolding both inside and out. We left
our shoes outside, entered the sphere, and climbed ramps and stairs to the central
meditation chamber, where we saw a large glass sphere (Lonely Planet says that it is 70cm
in diameter—perhaps the
largest in the world—and
made by the Zeiss company in Germany). Sunlight is reflected onto the sphere by a moving
mirror. It was great to spend a few minutes in a quiet, trash-free, well-maintained place,
and to be in a crowd of people that moved in an orderly manner; quite a contrast to city
streets.
We did not get to see the real Auroville
which, according to our guidebook, consists of over eighty settlements, each specializing
in a particular area, such as alternative technology, agriculture, computer research,
handicrafts, or health care. To do so requires a multi-day visit, and preferably a
commitment to spend some time working there.
We then started the four-hour drive back to Chennai, at
least a half hour of which was spent in a colossal traffic jam as we passed by the
political rally at Marina Beach. We retrieved our bags from the hotel and headed to the
central train station, where we joined a solid mass of people. We found our train, and
were soon on our way to Bangalore.
Click here
for an online novel that takes place in
Pondicherry around 30 years ago, in the time of the Mother, and will give you an excellent
feel for the place (as well as being a terrific read!) by our friend Nina Galen, who had
an actual audience with the Mother that is described in the book!
***Allen, who
describes himself as musically challenged, has nevertheless always had a hankering to
acquire and learn to play a Horny Coat. A Horny Coat is not much more than an
overcoat to which 8-12 squeeze (bulb) horns are attached around the circumference, each
tuned to a different note of the scale. He thought that India might be a good place
to buy such horns or have them made economically. I'm sure you all join me in hoping that
his quest fails. (Pee Wee Herman uses a completely different type of Horny Coat.)
Happy New Year,
everybody!
