One Thing I would to Change in Chennai

This post is a part of the Tablog titled CBC TABLOG-2. CBC is the Chennai Blogging Club which is the most happening Bloggers community. We the members of CBC bring out the Voice of Chennai .This Tablog  is a relay of post about “One aspect of Chennai that I would like to change” where 30 members from the group shell out that aspect which we would want to change and make this beautiful city even wonderful .

The previous post in this series was by Sahitya who is an avid blogger. She blogs about history among other things, which is amazing because personally I love history and I’ve always been fascinated by it. She blogs at Rythmica. Her post as a part of this series was about water scarcity beautifully penned in Tamil.

Logo Design by Kaushik -

Logo Design by Kaushik

One of the most gorgeous cities across India. Embracing tradition so close to its day-to-day functioning yet doesn’t miss out on keeping up with the modern trends. Chennai never ceases to amaze me, the history, tradition and urbanization are into a perfect blend. 

Yet there are a few things that could be changed to make Chennai more awesome. Despite the historic influences of English in Chennai or ‘Madras’, what we are a city now currently lack is a strong foundation for the language English. There is a dearth of groups and clubs that are formed to promote spoken word poetry, poetry clubs, book-meets, talk with authors, book clubs, English theater and viewers and the like. One could say that, it is not really the case and there are a lot of city happenings that does happen around. However the reality is that, for the population in this city, there is no much scope or avenue to learn, share and develop. 

With increasing number of activities, fresh blood can easily be identified, more new talents can be nurtured along with those existing persons who are looking for such opportunities. More activities, more clubs, more initiatives and more visits and discussions with budding authors, poets can have a huge impact on the city.

(given that I do love Tamil and all other languages) 

This is the aspect which I would like to see Chennai change itself. However true to the saying be the CHANGE you wish to see, here I’m in Chennai Blogger’s Club.

The next in line to give in their views is Clement Williams, a fellow blogger who gives amazing insights via his posts



The Yellow Books

Keys swung into the lock, and with a loud click disrupting the silence, the door swung open. I entered my apartment; it was the same way I left it in the morning. Coffee mug on the balcony, with the door wedged open; newspapers bundled in a corner; some cloths on the bed; a pitiable kitchen that was used for nothing but coffees, sandwiches and empty packets of frozen food covers.
Despite all the usual mayhem, another big brown cover was delivered before I left for work today. I had ripped open the top cover; it had a note, below which a stack of old books was seen. It was from mom, I tried reading it but soon my biological clock thundered, realizing that it was late, I dashed out leaving them as it was.
Now that I was back home after a long day of working on an editorial assignment, I felts much relaxed. tipping in some music, sipping a freshly brewed coffee from the counter; my curiosity was hitting new levels. The yellow book hidden beneath the torn cover got my attention. The note from mom read
‘Books from your Grandpa’s library. He wanted to you have them.
Love, Mom.’
After years of his demise, his library was finally opened. Intrigued, I tore open the wrappings. There were over ten books, battered and extensively used. The first of the pile was a yellow book. It read ‘Yoga Vasistam’. All those books were predominantly on philosophy and history.
“Grandpa! Read this” I handed out to him a page, I was around 17 years then.
He took it and read through. It was a poem titled, ‘Who amI?’
He read it and looked up and said, “This is not the right time”
I was disappointed. I took it and left with another word. I was a kid back then.
He was someone who rarely spoke and when he did speak, they had immense meaning and significance.

(Inwardly he was smiling, and he realized his books now got a reader, his thoughts could be heard)
My eyes were moist; I never had a chance to look at his library. It is indeed true that a person’s library spoke volumes about them. Had I known I would have had the most brilliant mentor, I thought with a sigh. Then I slowly picked each of them carefully, and browsed through the pages.
Each book contained a lot of marking and various symbols and some hasty calculations. Interestingly they had the exact same words at the exact same place in each book; they were hand-written, amazing calligraphy; and each of them was wrapped in the same yellow sheet. 
It read
*To my dearest Granddaughter Yantra, ‘Who am I?’ changed everything*
I picked them up and placed them in my own library, which strangely fit in instantly and completed the other collections.

(In-between all these memories and emotions, she missed the fact that they were in fact a  few clues hidden in between).


This is a fictional story written for CBC’s VIBGYOR challenge

To read more on VIBGYOR posts
V for Violet
I for Indigo
B for Brown
G for Green