Ah, Madras. Or should I say Chennai, as it’s now known? My dear old stomping ground, a city steeped in history, filter coffee, and the lingering aroma of jasmine. But the Madras of my childhood, in the early 1960s, was a different beast altogether. A quieter beast. A beast without the cacophony of a thousand auto-rickshaws vying for your attention. Imagine, if you will, a Madras with barely any traffic!
Our family chariot, a trusty Hillman Minx with the license plate MDJ 1345 (or something close, memory is a fickle mistress at my age), would glide down Mount Road – now Anna Salai for you young’uns – with an almost regal air. One of our regular haunts was Spencer’s, a shopping mecca in those days. Now, why Spencer’s, you ask? Well, my dear reader, it was one of the few places where you could find that most exotic of meats: bacon!
You see, my father had just returned from completing his Master’s degree in Tennessee, USA. He brought back with him not just a head full of knowledge and a suitcase full of souvenirs, but also a hankering for American breakfast staples. Bacon, that crispy, salty delight, was top of the list. Whether his accent had acquired a twang, I couldn’t tell you. I was but a wee lad of five, more preoccupied with the fascinating world around me than the nuances of my father’s vowels.
Now, my father wasn’t just a bacon enthusiast. He was also a passionate member of the Indo-American Friendship Society. Their meetings were held at the rather grand residence of Mr. and Mrs. Clark. Mr. Clark was, I believe, some sort of diplomat, but to my five-year-old self, he was simply the man with the lovely wife who had the most mesmerizing china blue eyes. I was utterly captivated. Mrs. Clark, bless her cotton socks, would often find me staring intently at her, probably with my mouth agape. I’m sure she found it rather amusing.
Madras back then was a city that moved at a slower pace. No blaring televisions, no internet, no mobile phones. My window to the outside world was a magnificent valve radio, lovingly built by my father. This wasn’t just any radio mind you. This was a behemoth, sitting atop a massive speaker cabinet that housed a tweeter, a mid-range, a woofer, and a hand-built crossover network. The sound it produced was rich, warm, and utterly captivating.
The raw materials for this audio masterpiece were sourced from the legendary Moore Market. Ah, Moore Market! A sprawling labyrinth of stalls selling everything under the sun. Old World War II radio sets, headphones, valves, resistors, capacitors – you name it, they had it. I would often accompany my father on his expeditions to this Aladdin’s cave, my eyes wide with wonder. Sadly, Moore Market met an unfortunate end in a fire, but its memory lives on in the minds of many old-timers.
Life in those days had a certain simplicity, a certain peace. Maybe it was the absence of the constant bombardment of information and stimulation that we experience today. Or maybe it was just the blissful ignorance of childhood, where responsibilities were few and worries even fewer. Whatever the reason, I can’t help but feel a sense of tranquility when I think back to those days.
But were those days truly better than the ones we live in now? It’s a question I often ponder. We have so much more today in terms of technology, convenience, and access to information. Yet, we also seem to be more stressed, more anxious, and more disconnected from each other. Perhaps it’s a classic case of “the grass is always greener on the other side.”
One thing is for sure, my formative years in Madras shaped me in profound ways. The sights, the sounds, the smells – they’re all etched into my memory. And while I’ve lived in many different places since then, Madras will always hold a special place in my heart.
Now, I realize this nostalgic ramble might only resonate with those of a certain vintage. If you remember Mount Road, Spencer’s, and Moore Market, then you’re probably in the same age bracket as me. And if you too have a deep affection for the Madras of yore, I’d love to hear your stories. Did you also have a father who built his own radio? Did you spend your afternoons sipping lime soda at a quaint Irani cafe? Let’s take a trip down memory lane together and celebrate the good old days!
Nalla Madras 