A night that made *Chennai* feel home!

Throwback to November 2021, I had just moved into Chennai, a new city with new faces, new dreams, and a language that I could not understand. A ‘vadakkan’ is how many would describe me, and rightly so being a north Indian who was trying to blend in. If I was being honest, I had my reservations with this city. As an outsider we were always told to be wary of how you are treated at a place where many would suggest ‘you don’t belong.’ A place which heats up like the frying pan on a stove, and people who would put a blind eye to you if you do not know ‘Tamil’ is what was fed to our pesky little brains from childhood.

And I did believe it for long, until that night which changed everything.?

The raining season had begun all over Tamil Nadu, and the potholes decorated by the reflection of lightening did scare many. Kudos to the 2015 floods! My mom would call me at least twice a day to make sure I was dry and home. The news channels went berserk and started anticipating floods, havoc and distress.

Funnily, I was sitting inside my Pg, at Urapakkam wondering where the floods are? Luckily the rain gods forgot my place and wanted to showcase their fury in other parts of Chennai.

But then that day came, and karma hit me hard.??

It was one of those rainy nights in Chennai that would flood the streets and thus it was safer to leave unless you wanted to get stuck and so I had booked my tickets to Bangalore. The middle-class mentality forced me to save money to an extent I would seem poor as I planned the cheapest way to commute to ‘Central station.’ My then roommate did a splendid job of teaching me about ‘Whiteboard buses that are free for ladies’ and ‘local metros’ that are very cost effective for commuting.

I was pleased by the thought of commuting 25kms at a bare minimum cost of 10/- (Who shouldn’t be). My itinerary for the night was to take a bus from the ‘Urappakkam bus stand’ to the ‘Vandaloor railway station’ and then take a local to the ‘Central station’ and for time being felt perfect.?

Though the Internet and Google have made life way simpler for people who are new to the city, doing something new all on your own does make you anxious. I was waiting anxiously at the bus stop waiting for the Whiteboard bus with a suitcase half my size. To my defense I was new to the city and did not anticipate the rush I would be facing.

The bus arrived and we cramped in, even in that suffocation that little joy of successfully boarding a free bus gave me the breadth of satisfaction. But it didn’t last long, my google maps showed me that I had arrived at the Vandaloor station and so did I confirm with the Ticket Anna. The storm was raging, and though it made the city look all the prettier, it left the streets muddy and slippery. I was rushed into that crowd to climb down, but my regrettable decision soon struck me hard.??-Cries out loud-

It was impossible to drag down the suitcase, and there were people who saw my struggle and helped me drag it down, but then in that process the bus had already started moving. The abruptness of all the events made me panic as I jumped and slipped on those muddy terrains.

The Aftermath!

Everything went numb for a moment as I could feel a sharp pain rise from my ankles straight to my head.

My ankles were twisted, fractured, hairline, sprained or a temporary flinch? What could it possibly be?

I could hear some three aunties murmur in Tamil, even though I could not really understand what they meant I could sense a bit of concern, and they tried to pull me up. I soon exclaimed ‘Tamil Teriyada’ and just pointed towards the station.

It was funny how my inability to communicate in Tamil soon started to fade away, as they seemed to understand exactly what I felt.??

They carried me in their arms and made sure I reached the station. I could not have thanked them enough as I bid them goodbye. I thought I would be able to make it on my own, but the pain soon started to alleviate and to a point I couldn’t stand on my legs on my own.

Definitely not just a temporary flinch!

I got hurt on the same leg, same ankle, I had incurred a hair-line fracture two years ago. The horrifying terror of revisiting that pain again made it worse. I was sitting in despair but had at least a few meters to cover until I reach the ticket station. I used my entire will and might and dragged myself along with my suitcase to the station.?

I got the ticket and realized that I had to cross a gazillion stairs to reach the Platform, where my train was supposed to come. The time had come, I broke down! The shear thought of doing it made my hands sweat and swell my legs (pun intended).

The cacophony of my cries did reach a few strangers who were eager to help me out, despite my inability to express gratitude or my pain. How could I have thanked them enough?

The people I did not consider my OWN a few years back, suddenly felt closer than family.??

That night I was helped by strangers who could not understand my language, right from crossing the bridge, to making me climb the train. A middle-aged woman took my feet and massaged it with a herbal oil to ease my pain. Two women rushed to the Apollo emergency with me and went away only after they made sure I was alright. Chennai’s railway authorities gave me free treatment and were so co-operative and were constantly worried about my situation.??

That night everything changed, about how I perceived this city, the people and the language. The glasses that I had worn for a long time suddenly started to seem clean, because that night I saw familiarity in strangeness, understanding in complexity and a home I was craving in Namma Chennai.?

Thank you for reading.