madurai

'India is a country of nonsense' - Mahatma Gandhi

I feel like I know what he means sometimes. Greetings. I'm sitting in Office Point Internet Cafe in a plywood computer cubicle. An Indian version of 'Rasputin' by Boney M is being played over speakers in the background. The computer I sit at keeps converting my text into Japanese script (this is annoying) and there are no fans and I'm too hot (this is annoying).

I'm in Madurai in Tamil Nadu and have been for two days now. This is my second visit to Tamil Nadu, the first having been when I stayed briefly in Ooty up in the Nilgiri Hills a week or two ago. Tamil Nadu is one of the few areas in India where Hindi is not really spoken (the first language is Tamil), and the attempted imposition of it by the federal government has proved a point of antagonism in the recent past. I am staying in Room 302 of the New Ruby Hotel which is in the old part of the city on West Perumal Maistry Street, along with all the other tourist hotels, and not far from the railway station. Madurai is quite a dirty place compared with the recent towns I've visited, and West Perumal Maistry Street is especially bad with piles of rubbish three or four feet high every twenty metres or so. But it is not devoid of personality and by no means an unpleasant place to stay. There's certainly a fair bit of life.

I spent yesterday marvelling at the Sri Meenakshi Temple, one of the most famous Dravidian temples in South India, and the main reason for my visit here. It didn't take as long to look around as it might because as a non-Hindu I was excluded from much of the complex. I stayed for a couple of hours but the covered walkways and the warm weather combined to make it quite a hot and claustrophobic environment, so in the end I retreated outside to the fresh air and slight breeze of the nearby Madurai Market where vegetables are bought and sold in something like a medieval setting. As I wandered about I got my camera out and started swinging it from my wrist brazenly. I knew what I was doing and sure enough it wasn't long before stall holders started to 'take the bait' and began asking me to photograph them and/or their mangoes and potatoes. This was all on my second day in Madurai: the day before I had a look around what remains of the Tirumalai Nayak Palace (not a lot), and today - this afternoon - I will visit the Gandhi Memorial Museum.

Tonight I catch a bus to Pondicherry, which is on the east coast three hours south of Chennai. I've booked a ticket on a deluxe private tourist bus through my hotel and the journey will take nine hours. I will find out tonight whether I actually have a seat on a comfortable air conditioned coach as promised, or whether my suspicion that I am to be bundled onto a ordinary government bus having paid triple the price proves closer to the truth. After the fatigue of so many recent bus and train journeys I really hope it is the former (the latter may precede a childish tantrum). We shall see.

I've conceded defeat and taken both my pairs of shorts to a local tailor to be fixed properly. My own sewing just hasn't risen to the occasion. The tailor has done a good job, sewing up seven individual holes and rips altogether. I'm glad I've got them sorted out: it was getting a bit ridiculous. The last straw was broken while I was at Madurai Market: I knelt down to take a photograph of a woman at a stall and ripped two massive holes (from seam to seam) in the knees of the pair I was wearing. I was surprised to find that the tailor had a postcard photograph of Ipswich town centre on the wall in his shop. I tried to explain that Ipswich was not far from my home town, and that I had been there, but I think the point was lost on him.

I am still evading the monsoon rain for the moment. In fact, the weather in Madurai is great. It's a hot day outside and there's no sign of rain whatsoever. I've seen no rain since Fort Cochin. I hear on the news that Mumbai has ground to a halt, including all trains in and out, it having rained so hard the whole city is underwater, and more rain is expected. But here... nothing. I'm not complaining.

A final note: I weighed myself yesterday: I currently weigh 13 stone and 2 pounds.

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Later in the day...

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4pm: I've just returned from the Gandhi Memorial Museum here in Madurai and have a few observations to note. First, they purportedly have on display the the loin cloth dhoti Gandhi was wearing when he was assassinated. This is interesting because the Gandhi Memorial Museum in Delhi also has this item on display!! I saw it in Delhi a month ago along with the bullet that killed Gandhiji. The dhoti I saw in Delhi did not look the same as this one: it was red with blood whereas this one was white and unsoiled. Second, the letters Gandhi wrote to Hitler which I saw in the Himachal State Museum are also on display here in Madurai. So what's going on? Either Gandhi did everything in duplicate (including the wearing of clothing) or something doesn't add up. I'll leave you to judge. I certainly have - see the quote at the top of this entry.

Also, whilst at the museum the stitching in my shorts came apart. Such was the quality workmanship they lasted a grand total of seven hours. Un...b-e-l-ievable.