I hate you so much, that I love you...

Madras. Chennai. My Bitch. I curse it, I hate it, I blame it, but I can’t leave it. Coming here was my choice, living here was my decision, working here at the company's head office, was my dream. Yet, every day I spend in this city of paradoxes, I resent it almost in every breath I take. I remember the day when the campus interviewer asked this serious question, “Why do you wish to work in Chennai?” “Sir, it’s been 24 years I have spent in Dehradun, I want to live alone, on my own.” I said brimming with confidence and a charming smile. “He wants to run away from his parents…Hahaha!” said the interviewer, laughing out so loudly that it did scare me for a second. But he was right; I wish I never said that, I wish I had asked for some other place anywhere across the length and breadth of the nation. I wish... Since I have lived in this land of utterly baseless conservationism, I have tried my best to accept it, as it is. And I guess it were these efforts which I was putting in to be a part of this cultural, traditional and superior race, that hurt me the most. Maybe I was trying too hard to fit in a place where I didn’t belong. Maybe I should have realized this in the initial days of training that “Beta, mujhse na ho payega…” I have made fun of everything in Chennai, the dressing sense, the sense of humor, the banal monotonous food, the paramount simplicity, the outmoded, dull grey buildings, the ugly localities, the tongue twister language, the depressing lifestyle,the larger than life superstars, the stupid preference of outings or fun and the naïveté women. I have ridiculed everything that I came across. I have fought with nearly everyone, the Autowalas, Policewalas, taxiwalas, hotelwalas, Conductors, bike parking managers, colleagues, boss and super boss. I have abused them all. I have been to the beaches in the mornings and abused the fishermen for answering the natures call on the shore, spoiling the heavenly morning beauty, I have cursed the temple pundits for looting money for no reasons, and I have called names to the actors whom our late Mukesh Harane could put to shame. Yes I have done it all. I have done it for six months, One year, Two year, Three years and now it is my fourth, and I still do it. I did it then and I do it now. But the difference is, initially I used to do it all the times, at office, at home, in bus, in train, in boat, in plane, in Delhi, in Dehradun. I cursed Chennai for not being my dream city, a city to spend the crazy youth, a place to experiment with everything possible. But today I do it very rarely, i.e. as long as I am not with my friends. There is a huge difference between then and now. But you might say I still curse it, what’s the deal? The deal is, when I am late at night in Delhi, I take an auto and the autowala speaks words as sweet as honey and promises to take the minimum charge for getting me the last bus to Dehradun, but actually dumps me 5 minutes further with a bus ticket which is 5 times the actual cost and demands commission from me as well as the bus owner, apart from the regular fare, then I don’t curse Chennai. When the last bus to Dehradun turns out to be a private bus which has charged me the most expensive ticket amongst the passengers and the quality is nowhere close to the one I travel in during my Chennai- Bangalore trips, then I miss Chennai. When the bus stops at the restaurant midway and the only thing that can be consumed while travelling is masala daal, paneer masala, bhindi masala, an oily bread pakoda, which will definitely kill me of acidity during the other half of the journey, then I think of Idly dosa sambhar cocnut chutneys. After changing the bus at Roorkee early in the morning when I finally reached Dehradun… [To be continued…]