My Experiments with Time

 "Chennai is a city, Madras is an emotion" read the banner; a popular tagline that is circulated mostly during August every year. 'How true!' I thought.  Though we use the term Madras much less these days, I get to hear it more in the month of August and more so when I visit older people. August 22nd is celebrated as Madras Day, to commemorate the day in the year 1639 on which the East India Company bought Madraspattinam from the Viceroy of Vijayanagar. And yes, the word Madras reminds me of the black and white days; the old tales my parents narrated of the times when they moved into this city and about grandma who used to call it ' Madhirassi' in Malayalam.  As our flight lifted over the skies of the city, I told my little champion that I would miss my city.  'Home is where the heart is, and my heart is always inclined towards Chennai' I told her.  'I am more Chennai girl than you are, as I was born here' came the little one's retort. '

  A few years ago, I asked my then 6-yr-old daughter if she would love to take part in a debate. No, she replied promptly. I was intrigued and asked her if she knew what a debate meant; she said she had watched debates on News channels along with grand-pa. ‘The participants behave very badly and shout at each other like enemies; I don’t want to be a fighter-cock’. This revelation was indeed an eye-opener to me as a parent.   As a kid, I remember my dad used to insist on watching the English news every night. There was a dual objective of improving general knowledge and vocabulary. The process of staying muted throughout the half hour while Sunit Tandon or Sukanya Balakrishnan read the news impeccably was quite a challenge. Nevertheless, we admired the beautiful saree-clad women and Suit-boot Babus for their diction and poise. They were indeed worthy of emulation.      Fast-forward three decades, and today Prime time is the most-dreadful time. Thankfully, there are dedicated news c