We are in the second day of a tropical depression that is supposed to last a couple of days more. Occasional torrential downpours dump enormous amounts of water on an already soaked city. The streets are flooded. It is still dark outside in the early morning as I listen to the sounds of the rain, not a gentle rain, but a pouring deluge – as the water rushes out of the downspouts that are the only means of preventing the rooftops from filling up with the H2O. There is the occasional sound of thunder. There is lightning. The frogs continue their cacophony of sounds all through the night enjoying themselves in the water that has collected behind the house – you cannot hear yourself in certain parts of the house! Later in the morning, as the rising sun somehow manages to bring light to the streets, somehow penetrating the shroud of thick clouds that envelope the city, the streets will fill with people and vehicles – in all shapes and sizes – splashing through these water-filled streets.
This is the welcome rainy season that brings relief to this normally dry part of the world.
I would never have imagined being here a month ago, just after our return from Morocco. I was looking forward to sitting back and catching my breath, to spending some time quietly reliving the days of Morocco in the peace of the home, waiting to celebrate the impending holidays with friends and family – before embarking on the next adventure. But duty called – soon! So I jumped into action, not knowing where the next step would take me – a feeling similar to how I felt in the situation I wrote about in this blog – but on steroids. The situation was more urgent.
I found myself on a Qatar Airways jet heading east, not exactly sure where the fates would take me. A gin-and-tonic, served by the friendly flight attendant, coursed through my systems, numbing me pleasantly for the moment. I could either try to get some sleep or watch a movie. I drifted in and out of consciousness.
I am in Chennai right now, trying to help my parents. Thankfully, the immediate issue that brought me here seems to have been addressed successfully. We have to see if I am successful in getting a system in place for their longer term care and comfort. My siblings are with me in spirit. I feel comfortable at the moment leaving my parents to fend by themselves in the home for short periods of time – with the new helper we have found, through the kindness of caring friends. Mahesh is his name. I can perhaps go out into the city to meet my friends now. There are still issues to be worked out, but we are surrounded by awesome people who help.
If all goes right, I should be able to head back home at the end of the month – leaving my parents in good hands.
Morocco seems a long time ago, but I do intend to return to its spirit.
Sorry, no pictures today!
The dog’s compadres on the nearby streets also joined in the noise making. They might have been passing messages to each other. The only other person who was up was the owner of the store across the road. She will soon start washing out her store front, a ritual that she has probably been doing for most of the years of her life. The 
Crows are said to be very social animals. I sometimes see them gathering in large numbers on the cellphone towers that are close by.
I have noticed that some of these birds clean and preen themselves excessively in the mornings.
The traffic on the main road in front of the house is a disorderly mess. I am getting better and better at figuring out how to cross roads like this on foot. You will notice that there are two-wheelers on both sides of the white car in this picture. One of them is parked.
On top of the building in front of the house you can see a few, small, one-room shacks that that have been added on, perhaps illegally. I suspect that these are rented. There must be at least four units in the picture below. These are probably occupied by young people who have come to the city to work. This is all they can afford under the circumstances, and it is in all likelihood better accommodation than some others on the street.
The little home captured in the picture below sits on top of another building next to the house. It is located next to, and just below, a couple of cellphone towers built on top of the same building. The clothing hangs out to dry next to the structures. I hate to think of the radiation that one is exposed to on a continuous basis under the towers. People living there are probably unaware of this. Even if they were, the decision to live here might be considered a difficult choice between two bad alternatives – affordable housing vs. long term health.
The occasional bird flew across the sky high above me as I stood on the terrace. Sometimes it was a group of birds that I observed headed in what looked like a random direction, seemingly with a sense of purpose.
An egret settled down on a coconut tree close to the level of the terrace I was on. It observed the human being pacing back and forth on the terrace for a while and then moved on.
Meanwhile, the the sun began its descent behind the buildings of Madipakkam at the end of yet another Chennai evening.
The cycle will continue.
I am back home, visiting my parents once again. I searched my blogs from the last few years, and realized that I have been making this trip more frequently in recent times. And I have been posting pictures and writing my impressions about the experience over and over again. It is a good thing. The essential, core, feeling that comes with a trip home never seems to change regardless of the circumstances which bring me here, which tends to be different each time. This time, I am here for my Dad’s 90th birthday celebration, a celebration of a life well lived, and still being lived. I am happy to be home for the occasion. Once again.
While their bright lighting serves them well when it comes to advertising their presence and their goods, it can be a nuisance just across the road in the nighttime because they are open till somewhat late in the evening.
And the fact that some of their customers park their vehicles in front of the gate to our house is also a major annoyance.
Things are constantly changing here in Madipakkam, a suburb on the outskirts of Chennai.
They seem to be doing a reasonable amount of business.
If one such vehicle were to appear, it is more than likely not going to stop for you. Rather, the driver, in all likelihood, is going to try to find a way around you, trying to avoid slowing down. This will happen even while you keep moving. It is not clear what one is supposed to do. Do you keep walking, do you halt in your tracks, or do you make a dash for it, not knowing how the speeding vehicle will respond. You take your life in your own hands.
I have seen people put out their hands while stepping in front of a slowly moving vehicle like a bus, instructing it to stop. That seems to work. After all, bus drivers probably do not wish to be lynched by an angry mob if something untoward happens. I once had to wait about 15 minutes to try to cross a busy road. My friend, who was waiting patiently in a car on the other side, finally stepped out on to the road, put his hand out, and proceeded to cross over to my side. It was the work of a master of the craft.
Splattered Brains 