My Trip To Madurai - I

My British Airways Flight 87 taxis down the runway to a smooth landing in Chennai in the unearthly hours of the morning, at 3.30 AM. As I look out the windows of the plane and see the lights of "Singara (beautiful) Chennai", I'm overwhelmed by emotions untold. The temperature outside is a balmy 27 degrees Celsius, as announced by the pilot. "That's not too bad," I reassure myself. In order not to inconvenience anyone, I have convinced family and friends not to rouse themselves from their deep slumber, but to continue their sleep uninterrupted. I have managed to reassure everyone that I'm a big girl now and can find my own way to the domestic airport from the international terminal, so I can catch the plane to Madurai, my hometown, first thing in the morning. As I walk towards Customs and Immigration, I am fully in agreement with Sir Walter Scott and recite his lines to myself:

"Breathes there the man with soul so dead

Who never to himself hath said,

This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned

From wandering on a foreign strand! ..."

The Customs officer on duty is sleepy, glum and morose, and waves me through with nary a question. I have an hour or so to kill before I wind my way to the domestic airport. I find a row of three seats closer to the exit, but choose not to sit on the awfully dirty upholstery, and sit on a low window ledge instead, as I fish out my cell phone and activate it. A missed call to husband dearest is in order and he calls me back right away and tells me that he's been tracking down the plane's flight path online. He seems greatly relieved that I have landed in one piece! My son then calls me to tell me how he misses me already, and as I keep talking to him, I commit my first murder on home soil, of a pesky mosquito that had found its way into the air conditioned hallway. The murder weapon is my plastic hand fan that is going to be my most needed accessory for the next two weeks!

My flight to Madurai is very pleasant, but I notice that refreshments of any kind have to be paid for on the flight - quite a change from fifteen years ago when we were served a full gourmet meal on a 50-minute flight! As I bound down the steps on landing, I simply can't believe my eyes - there's a brand new terminal gleaming on the other side of the tarmac, one that screams "International Airport" in the not too distant future! Escalators, high tech screening equipment and top notch baggage carousels spell it all, as I collect my suitcases and walk into the embrace of my beloved family and friends waiting outside. The skies are overcast, the temperature bearable, and no sign of the sweat yet that I was really dreading, in all honesty. This is SO not the hot and humid Madurai that I know so well, I think! My drive home reinforces my initial impression of Madurai after a considerable absence, that it has improved by leaps and bounds from its small-town proportions of a decade ago! Madurai's economic development is staggering indeed, and this is obvious in the number of houses, businesses, cars, malls, mobile phones, and general affluence and buying power of its people. Its ever expanding urban sprawl stands testimony to its colossal growth, as I drive into a neighborhood that is virtually unrecognizable.

Let it be known that I absolutely love my hometown, heat, dust, mosquitoes and all! Madurai is in my blood, and consumes me like a raging fever, if you can excuse my pathetic cliches. Its sights and sounds and smells and tastes and life experiences characterize who I am, and like a desperate drug addict seeking a quick fix, I come to Madurai every now and then to get an emotional fix that will keep me going for the next few years or so. This is my fourth trip in fifteen years, and I have come here now for my high school reunion, a trip that is epic in scope and in magnitude, allowing me to take stock of my roots, revisit familiar haunts, and relive the halcyon days of my youth. I now live and teach in Vancouver, in beautiful British Columbia, one of the most beautiful places on the planet, but in my opinion, nothing can compare or hold a candle to my hometown, Madurai. I reach home, sweet home, for a few hours of rest, before I meet with some of my juniors from school to discuss the next day's reunion. I close my eyes for a short nap in the air-conditioned comfort of my bedroom in Shangri-la, the house that we so lovingly built before we moved to California, and as I drift off into a gentle, pleasant sleep, my grey cells come alive with all my wonderful memories of Madurai!

More to follow ...