By 7 a.m., the bus had arrived in front of the hotel. Since we had already had breakfast, we didn’t waste any time and quickly got on board. One by one, passengers from various hotels boarded, and finally, we set off for today’s full-day itinerary. Today, we planned to explore Chennai city, then go to Marina Beach, followed by Golden Beach, then the Crocodile Breeding Centre, onward to Mahabalipuram, then Kanchipuram, and finally Sriperumbudur, before returning to Chennai. There were about twenty-five passengers on the bus. People of Bengali, Marwari, and Punjabi backgrounds were on board, more or less. Oh yes, and there were also two men in black shirts and white dhotis — probably a father and son. Our guide was a Tamil Muslim, fluent in Hindi, so there was absolutely no language barrier. From time to time, he made sincere efforts to speak to us in Bengali and Punjabi. Even if he occasionally made mistakes, it was very heart warming. He kept giving us bits of information while also entertaining all of us along the way. In the past few days, I’ve explored much of Chennai city, so there wasn’t really any new excitement left! However, I did learn two interesting facts. First, what I had long mistaken for a huge shopping mall is actually the Chennai Legislative Assembly building, located on Anna Salai (Mount Road). And second, Marina Beach in Chennai is about 13 kilometres long, making it the second longest beach in the world.
Golden Beach:
Leaving Chennai, we headed 25 kilometers away to visit Golden Beach. It is a privately owned seaside resort, and in short, it’s like a grand fair set up by the sea — with Water Kingdom rides, giant wheels, merry-go-rounds, various joy rides, and food stalls all under one roof. Our guide bought the tickets and took us inside. There were rides of different types — some free, some paid. I went straight to the beach to have a look. I couldn’t quite figure out why it’s called “Golden” — perhaps because of the sand, though it didn’t seem particularly golden to me. The shopkeepers were just setting up their stalls, so food wasn’t ready yet. After wandering around for a while, I came out. Since the others hadn’t returned yet, I started chatting with the guide. I realized I had left my expensive sunglasses at the Matrimandir in Pondicherry, so we went to buy a cheaper one. The guide even bargained for me, and I got a black aviator pair for ₹100. After that, we went to the Crocodile Breeding Centre, also known as the Crocodile Park, which houses around 5,000 crocodiles from various species across the world. The area was shaded with dense trees. But there was one danger — the trees were filled with thousands of herons, so one had to be careful not to get hit by their “white droppings!” Signs of neglect were visible all around. Inside a museum, we saw crocodile eggs, bones, and skeletons that depicted their life cycle. Nearby, in a glass enclosure, were several world-famous reptiles, including a variety of snakes. Every afternoon, there’s a live snake venom extraction demonstration here. The whole area was filled with a strong, unpleasant odour, so holding my nose, I quickly walked out!
Now our bus was moving southward along the East Coast Highway. A wide stretch of black asphalt road ran over brown sandy soil. On the left, the vast blue expanse of the Bay of Bengal stretched to the horizon; on the right, there were several backwaters — shallow lagoons formed where seawater had been trapped, creating saltwater lakes. All around us stood groves of casuarina (pine-like) trees. In a word — breath taking! One by one, we passed the factories of Ashok Leyland, Maruti Suzuki, Hyundai, and other automobile giants. Further along the road stood a massive desalination plant, which purifies seawater and supplies it to Chennai.
The bus stopped in front of a huge hotel. There were no shops nearby — only a parking area filled with cars of all sizes. Inside, the place was bustling with both Indian and foreign tourists. After washing our hands, we sat down for lunch. On the plate were ten different vegetable dishes, a bowl of fried lentils, and in the centre, two rotis. I called the guide and said, “But we usually eat rice, don’t we?” He smiled and replied, “Rice will be served after the rotis.” This was my first time trying a South Indian special thali, and I was genuinely excited. I had never imagined that food cooked with so little oil could taste so delicious. The last course came with chutney, curd, and a sweet dish — a true feast, like the special treatment given to a beloved son-in-law! At the same table, just across from us, sat two women — a lady and her mother. The younger woman’s hairstyle was quite unusual, cut in a way that looked almost like an upturned pot. She wore thick, heavy earrings, reminding me of a character straight out of Pragyanasutakalpa — was she Shrimati, Tara, or Sujata? As we ate, we started chatting. They had come from Malaysia to visit Mahabalipuram. She told me that their ancestral home was originally in India, but now she worked there as a history professor at a college. From her, I learned that once upon a time, Mahabalipuram (or Mamallapuram) was a major seaport under the Pallava and Chola dynasties. It maintained regular maritime connections with other ports of that era such as Utkal (Odisha) and Tamralipta (modern Tamluk in Medinipur, West Bengal). It was from this very region that the Chola kings expanded their influence and established colonies in the distant islands of Southeast Asia — including Bali, Sumatra, and Java.
Mahabalipuram:
We arrived at Mahabalipuram, also known as Mamallapuram, located about 56 kilometres from Chennai. The place is home to several famous sites — the Pancha Rathas (Five Chariots) Temple, the Shore Temple, and various rock-cut cave temples. As soon as we got off the bus, the first thing that caught my eye was the Arjuna’s Cave (Arjuna’s Penance). On the surface of a low rocky hill (not quite a mountain) is carved a magnificent Pallava-era depiction of scenes from the Mahabharata, especially those from the Kurukshetra war. It is worth mentioning that the five Pandavas were never actually here. However, this cave was created in their memory and stands as a remarkable example of early Dravidian architecture. According to our guide, this is a classic example of Indian monolithic rock-cut architecture, carved out of a single stone. It was built during the reign of Pallava King Mahendravarman () and his son Narasimhavarman I (630–680 CE) in the 7th century CE. A flight of stone steps climbs up along the side of the hill, and from the top, one can clearly see the Mahabalipuram beach and the famous Shore Temple nearby.
On the slope of a small hill lies a huge boulder made of granite-like igneous rock. It is known as “Sri Krishna’s Butter Ball.” The local people find it quite astonishing that even during the tsunami, this massive rock did not roll down! I asked, “But what does a tsunami have to do with it? If there’s ever a major earthquake, surely it will fall one day.” Our guide didn’t argue further. After all, since I spent the whole year dealing with geography—all that talk about erosion and rock formation—perhaps that’s why now I find the artistic mastery of ancient architecture and sculpture far more fascinating than just an example of physical weathering. Next, we went to the Shore Temple by the seaside. This temple enshrines both Lord Shiva and Lord Vishnu together. In South India, the relationship between Shiva and Vishnu is often compared humorously to that of a brother-in-law and son-in-law. (I’ll explain this analogy in detail in another piece someday.) Anyway, in the rays of sunrise and sunset, the deities of this temple seem to glow with colours of divine radiance. A remarkable testament to the artistic excellence of the Pallava kings is the Pancha Rathas (Five Chariots) Temple complex. Here stand five exquisitely sculpted temples, each adorned with unique carvings and beauty. It is worth noting that in 1984, UNESCO declared Mahabalipuram, including Arjuna’s Rath and its surrounding monuments, a World Heritage Site.
Kanchipuram:
Bad luck! Because of a traffic jam on the way, it was already evening by the time we reached Kanchipuram. Being an ancient city — and a pilgrimage site too — parking there was quite a problem. After coming all this way, how could we not enter the temple? We heard that the temple would close around 7 p.m., right after the evening aarti. So we hurried again. The temples of South India are very different from those of North India — they look almost like fortresses. After crossing the main gate, we entered the complex. High walls surrounded us on all sides — then another doorway! Inside lay the main courtyard, and beyond that, the temple itself. Without prior knowledge, one could easily get lost — it’s literally a maze! In fact, this architectural design was created to protect temples from repeated invasions throughout history. Thankfully, we had that Tamil father and son with us, so we didn’t have much trouble finding our way. Crossing the open courtyard, we circled the main shrine once before finding the golden staircase leading up. Since it was evening, the crowd was not too heavy. The priest was performing aarti, and we were given prasadam — a sort of ghee-fried khichuri. I thought, “Well, it’s time to return now.” But suddenly, the Tamil father and son checked their watches, started shouting, “Swarnamagar! Swarnamagar!” (Golden Lizard! Golden Lizard!), and began to run! Where were they going? Only they seemed to know the way out. Since we had to return to the bus together, we started running after them — like a childhood game of ‘chor-police’ (cops and robbers)! Left, right, up, down — we lost all sense of direction. Finally, we reached a counter in front of a small enclosed area. The signboards were written in Tamil, Telugu, and Malayalam — all of which I couldn’t read — but I understood one thing: Rs. 2/-. Anyway, following the Tamil father and son, we too bought two tickets for four rupees and stood in line behind them. After walking a short distance, we saw a wooden staircase going upward. Were we supposed to climb to the attic? The stairs looked somewhat like those you see at a giant wheel ride — you go up one side and come down the other. Now I finally understood what was going on. In most temples, the deity is placed inside the sanctum, usually at ground level or on the rear wall. But here, in Kanchipuram, the Golden Lizard (Swarnamagar) is installed on the ceiling! So people climb the staircase, touch the golden lizard, and then come down the other side. What a strange yet fascinating experience! On our way out, I noticed a corner of the temple where prasadam was being sold — one laddu for ₹20. After buying some, we left the temple. Outside, I saw our guide waiting, my camera hanging around his neck. The three of us shared a laddu as prasadam. Right in front, there were several Kanchipuram silk saree shops. Inside the stores, we could actually see the weavers working on the looms. Sarees that cost ₹3,000–₹4,000 in city markets were being sold there for ₹1,300–₹1,800. You could even book one by paying 30% in advance — they’d ship it to your home VVP (Value Verified Post) style, almost like Cash on Delivery! After finishing our shopping and grabbing a quick meal, we boarded the bus. Then began the peddlers’ nuisance — men with leather slippers in their hands. “One pair for ₹150!” they shouted. To be honest, the price of these slippers fluctuated like the stock market! You just needed a little patience. One brother from Agartala bought a pair for ₹120, and by the time the bus was about to leave, I got the same pair for ₹60!
The bus was moving northeast along the highway toward Chennai. Everyone was more or less asleep when suddenly the guide’s call woke us up. We had reached Sriperumbudur. An incredible stillness surrounded the place — only the floodlights glimmered in the quiet night. It was here, on 21st May 1991, that India’s former Prime Minister Shri Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated by an LTTE (Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam) suicide bomber during a public meeting. With him ended a bright and promising chapter in Indian political history. There is a memorial and a museum here in his honour. Since I had seen him from very close during my childhood in my hometown, Cooch Behar, my heart was filled with deep sorrow.
* * * * * * *
It was around 9 p.m. when we entered Chennai. One by one, everyone was getting off in front of their respective hotels. When the bus stopped in front of Apollo Hospital, Kamal told the guide that she needed to buy some medicines. The guide replied, “Don’t worry, you’ll easily find them near Chennai Central. No need to stop here.” Anyway, around a quarter to ten, our bus finally stopped in front of Chennai Central. As we were about to get down, the guide said, “Please wait. I’ll drop everyone off first, buy the medicines, and then drop you at your hotel!” Can you imagine such a thing in today’s world? Yes—at ten o’clock at night, he drove around in the big bus, searched not one or two but four Apollo pharmacies, got down himself, and brought back the medicines for Kamal. When we finally got off the bus in front of our hotel, Ramlakshmi Lodge, we waved goodbye to him. That day, we truly learned from this Tamil brother what commitment really means. We may never meet him again in life, but this little memory will stay in our hearts forever.
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