Chennai2

Chennai

There is a yearly festival held in the suburb of Padur Village where Jake and Lesley live. It comes complete with neon-lighted figures several stories tall, nightly fireworks, and a parade. The parade consists of several “floats” wherein hang men dangling from hooks threaded through the skin of their backs and legs. 

Apparently, they are undergoing this agony to increase their odds of producing a male child. The men and the floats are adorned with flowers and brightly colored hangings. There are paper-mache peacocks, crowds of people, and even a man selling balloons. The atmosphere is decidedly celebratory. We observe the floats as they stand still on the side of the OMR (Old Mahalipuram Road) and it all looks pretty prohibitive. I cannot imagine what happens when the “floats” start to move along the uneven street. 

We visit Little Mount in Chennai. It is a church the Portuguese built beside a cave where the apostle Thomas was living a simple prayerful life in solitude, before he was martyred, circa AD72. The cave now holds a modest altar holding a statue of St Thomas. It’s a very small low-ceilinged space, with rippled blue-gray walls of stone. Impenetrable, yet with an opening large enough to walk through. 

Cave at Little Mount

It’s Ash Wednesday and mass is about to begin in the church. The service is in Tamil and the pews, at mid-day, are filled with sari clad women. They overflow onto the open stone floor where they stand, sit and kneel. It’s a sari fashion show with so many shades and patterns the room is a complex pattern of color. We find a spot on the periphery, exactly where we belong. This is one temple where we keep our shoes on. The music has an oom-pah beat in the bass line with the melody dancing overtop. It sounds like carousel music to Lesley and it’s characteristically LOUD. The neon lights framing the saints are lavender. I wonder if they change colors to coincide with the church calendar.

Claire’s smudge of ashes ends up on my chin. Take away ashes are dispensed in paper packets, so we take some home for Jake.

The Armenian Church resides in a peaceful enclave near Parry’s Corner one of the most congested areas in the city. Built in the 1700’s it no longer functions as a church but is retained as a heritage site. It’s most distinctive feature is a 6 bell belfry.  The contrast between the crazy busyness of the streets and the quiet churchyard is dramatic. We are the only ones here while on the other side of the walls the din carries on.

The Armenian Church

Next stop: Paris
Namaste

“I wish I were Claire Charlotte Culley
That is who I really want to be
For if I were Claire Charlotte Culley
Everyone would be in love with me.”
(To the tune of I wish I were an Oscar Meyer wiener)