Back To The Village | The Village Snob

Vanakkam Amma and Appa,

 

It’s been three days since I got back from Chennai. A strange inexplicable sensation continues to linger in my heart — a feeling of intense sadness at having to say goodbye to you both and, of immense relief at having said goodbye to the city.

 

I was sooo looking forward to the trip — three months without seeing your faces — I didn’t even have any photos of you to stare at longingly. You guys look the same, thank God. But Chennai is SO different.

 

It hit me when the bus entered the city. I very foolishly took the 3 p.m. bus from Tiruvannamalai and entered the suburbs during rush our. After three months of breathing the purest air, I felt suffocated for the entire two hours it took me to reach home. And don’t even get me started on the traffic. I know I sound like a village snob but I don’t care. Chennai isn’t what it used to be. At the bus terminus, it felt like I was seeing such a huge crowd for the first time. And it wasn’t even that crowded to begin with.

 

While once I would notice the peepul saplings bursting out of the sidewalks and smile the whole day, now I could only see 50 depressing shades of grey everywhere. And I know this makes no sense but even the moon looks prettier in the village. Perhaps because it is surrounded by a zillion stars. I counted just three in the city sky.

 

But seeing Amma’s shocked face when she opened the door was all worth it. By the way, I was expecting you to be surprised Amma. Why so shocked? Appa, your reaction was classic. Just one faint hint of a smile. You’ll be great at poker.

 

To be fair, there are many things I do miss about the city. For starters, the food. You know how cranky I get without food, right Amma? Well, in the village the menu is usually this:

 

Breakfast – Upma, kanji, pongal etc with chutney. For summer, it’s kuzhu and pickled mango everyday.

Lunch — Rice, Sambar, One vegetable (drumsticks, beetroot, ladies finger, cabbage) and Rasam

Dinner — Same as lunch. Different curry.

 

If there are very few of us, we get dosas, rotis or some such. When there’s an event or workshop, the menu expands and one of the meals is veg biriyani.

 

Last week, I had intense biriyani cravings of the non-vegetarian kind. I bullied Muthzoom into taking me to town but the biriyanai shop had closed by then. I had to settle for a plate of cold parotta-kurma instead. I actually wept (a long stream of tears). The next afternoon, we went again and got lucky. But the cravings had intensified. Biriyani wouldn’t suffice. The very next morning, I boarded the bus to Chennai. I’m sorry to shatter your illusion that it was only you I was missing, the food played an equal part.

 

In case you didn’t notice, I’m making a list of items that my hungry tummy has stocked-up on. One ‘Illegal’ burger (that’s what they call it), one large tub of chocolate ice cream, one masala cheese omelette, one potato cheese omelette, one cheese Maggi, one Nagaland style pork curry with bamboo shoots, one veg Chinese lunch, one plate of pani puri and one more tub of chocolate ice cream. Many, many bars of chocolates. One bottle of Minute Maid. And a few other junk items. This is apart from the epicurean delights you cooked for me, dearest Amma. Aloo chaat, keerai molagutal, adai, pesarettu and a different kind of paratha everyday — you are one yummy mummy. Totally worth the 12 hours of bussing it.

 

On the return journey, I discovered a non-veg restaurant near the Tiruvannamalai bus stand. One quick refill of chicken biriyani before taking the bus to town. It was over that last plate of biriyani that I realised that while I definitely prefer the village, there are many things I do miss about the city. For starters:

 

1. The beach. The hills ARE lovely but the sea has a charm of its own. Oh, a few days back, we saw a perfect moonrise. Dusk, chill breeze and a red full moon slowly lifting up from behind the hills. But, I think the moonrises from the sea are prettier.

 

2. The dogs on the beach. Most of my last two years were spent on the beach, chilling with my gang of 12 dogs. They still jumped all over me when I visited them this time, even though I didn’t come with goodies. Oh, how I miss them.

 

3. Tea shops. While there are tea shops here , the chai kadais in Chennai offer an anonymity that only the city does — even if I look like an outsider out there too.

 

4. The movies. Recently, a friend asked if there was a theatre near my village. That’s when I realised that I hadn’t even thought about these basic comforts that we take for granted in the city. “Oh, who needs a theatre in a place as pretty as this,’ I had told her. And then I went to watch a movie at the theatre this time. It was an awful movie but you’ll never get extra-large tubs of butter popcorn in the village.

 

5. Midnight food-delivery. There’s nothing you can do here if you feel hungry at 1 pm. You just have to pray that there is something left of your secret stash of munchies. Usually, there isn’t — the cat would have got to it. Not so in the city.

 

You should see the joy with which we welcome an extra packet of refined oil here. That means pati makes either bajji, vadai or adirasam. By the way, my entire ‘new’ family thanks you for the many dabbas of pickles and podis, Amma. They like your garlic podi the best. It was finished in just two days.

 

Yes, the village has taught me a different way of living. Yes, it was a drastic shift and the shift back was tough as well. But I have figured out how to strike a balance. The city has been a good friend. And just because I have moved to greener pastures doesn’t mean I forget the pasture that once fed me — and well.

 

Sorry, this letter has been all about food. Right now, my tummy is rumbling for your rava dosa, Ammi. Have to bully Muthzoom to take me to town again.

 

With ever-lasting love and eternal hunger,

Maya