Street scene

A walk in the garden

I love Chennai, but one of its shortcomings is the lack of outdoor space that's safe for walking, running or playing. We're lucky enough to have a long driveway and a bit of green space (beware the snakes) around our house, but try riding a scooter down the street and you'll be dodging insane traffic (motorized, pedal-powered, bullock-drawn and pedestrian), hanging wires, holes in the sidewalk and street, not to mention cows, goats, dogs, and even the occasional pig or monkey.

That's what makes the Theosophical Society's Huddleston Gardens such an oasis. The Theosophical Society  (and here) is another group dedicated to finding Truth and Oneness and all that stuff. Mind-blowing, I'm sure, but I'm just there for the gardens, really.

Samuel and I joined some other kids and moms for a nice little outing last week. Sam brought his scooter. Note to self: DO NOT bring the scooter again unless I have my own wheels on which to keep up ...

 

There are art pieces and little temples and houses of worship representing many of the world's religions throughout the gardens. The members of the society believe that all religions can be distilled down to basic, universal truths. Members can follow whichever spiritual path they choose (or no path at all) as long as they agree to follow the three Objects. (Despite my earlier flippancy, I actually find this kind of interesting.)

Samuel and his friends were fascinated by the red bugs we saw everywhere ...

I was more interested in the flowering trees ...

Here are Sam and Owen taking a little break from their explorations ...

There were all kinds of trees, many of them marked with scientific names. I like this one for its shape ...

... and for the ant castle at its base ...

Mom ... could you stop with the paparazzi thing?

This is a big banyan tree, but it's not the famous and even bigger big banyan further into the gardens ...

Indian banyans everywhere!!

 

 

This is why I need my own wheels ...

 

We got caught in an unexpected rain shower ...

... but we did get to see the big banyan, which is said to be 450 years old. The main tree was uprooted in a storm in 1989, but the weakened trunk and its shoots form a grove that covers about a quarter mile. Samuel and his friends were very excited about the cows grazing in the grove (as if we never see cows, but whatever).

At this point, the unexpected rain shower became a downpour and I put the camera away and tried to keep up with Samuel's scooter as we headed back to the car. We were soaked, but it was a lovely day anyway.

Armenian Church at Parry's Corner

The caretaker watched the two women from his dusty office.

American, he thought after studying them for a moment. And they meant to be there, judging from the large cameras they were now raising to their faces. That first look of bewilderment was common to most of his visitors, probably due to the relatively hidden entrance to the church grounds and to the sudden shock of calm that came when one stepped through the gate and out of the riot of sound, color and smell that was Parry’s Corner.

The old Armenian Church was bright white, and its interior was of dark wood and rattan. It was a somber place, and quiet, the silent sister to bright yellow St. Anthony’s next door.

And empty. Always empty, which is why the caretaker allowed the women to wander a bit before he approached them. No need to hurry these too infrequent interruptions.

He watched them walk along the outer buildings, peering at the faded drawings and photos of busier years. They took pictures of the crumbling staircase and of the arches and of the parakeets in their stacked cages.

As they walked toward the bell tower and church he finally revealed himself.

“Hello. I’m Mr. Alexander, the caretaker. Would you like to see the church?”

They nodded and smiled and followed him into the simple, tidy nave.

“Why do the Armenians need their own church?”

Oh yes. Definitely Americans.

“Well, they’re not Roman Catholic, you see. They’re Orthodox. But there are no more Armenians here now. They employ me as caretaker, but I am an Anglo-Indian. Do you know what that is?”

He saw them smile at his pride, but why should he not be proud? Being Anglo-Indian made him different in this nation that so often seemed nothing but differences.

“It means that I have British ancestry, and Engish is my mother tongue.”

“But did you grow up here in Chennai?”

“Oh, yes.”

He showed them the altar and the tombstones. He told them about the group of Armenians who had traveled to the church to check up on things and who had held a service there, oh, several years ago now. And he pointed out the large marker honoring Kojah Petrus Woskan, who built a bridge near Little Mount and also arranged for the stairs to be constructed leading up to St. Thomas Mount.

“Sometimes Armenians come and ask to see those places, so I take them there, too.”

Then he stood quietly in the center aisle while the women took pictures of the ceiling and the floor and of the pews and altar and window screens.

They finally left the church and walked around the bell tower.

“There are six bells, brought from London, you know.”

After making sure they saw the grave of the Rev. Shmavonian and that they understood his importance as editor of the first Armenian journal in the world, he left the women to their wandering and spoke quietly with the gardener about that fallen tree.

He continued to watch, though, as the women inspected tombstones and cherubs and wondered over old family crests and symbols. They even took pictures of the chickens in the yard, though he couldn’t think why, before taking a last look around and stepping back out into bustling Chennai.

 

The caretaker gazed after them for a moment and then returned to his office to let silence descend on him once more.

India Week

The kids' school has an India Week every year, when the kids wear Indian clothes, study Indian customs, and perform Indian songs and dances. I missed Johnny's performance this year, because I was getting Lasik surgery done on my eyes, but I did make it to Evie's performance.

Student art was on display outside the auditorium. These rangolis were done by the lower elementary kids.

The kindergarten did a couple of Tamil folk dances. Here's Evie's group. I was on the opposite side of the auditorium and didn't get great pictures.

Some of the teachers and staff brought down the house with a Bollywood dance performance. They were pretty good! The guy in the middle is the elementary librarian. The kids all call him Mr. Jet.

Evie and her classmates. The girl in the green and blue is Lulu, a partner in kindergarten crime.

The blond boy in front wearing a blue kurta is Paul, and we have a little crush going on there, even though (Evie informs me) Paul is both naughty and French. The other day we ran into Paul at the Crocodile Bank. He saw me first, and then said in his little French accent, "But where is Evie?" He pronounces her name E-veee, with the accent on the veee. It was pretty cute.

 

Test your culinary knowledge!

Trivia question: What is the largest fruit in the world?

Two hints: It's not durian (though it sort of looks like one), and here's a picture.

It's a jackfruit (and here), native to South India and sold year round from street stalls and vegetable markets. It's usually sold already opened and cleaned, since it's really difficult to get to the edible parts. Here's a couple getting ready to hack into one on the street in Mylapore. This fruit is a medium-sized specimen. The fruits are known to grow up to four feet long and in the 80-pound range.

I'm not a big fan of jackfruit, though I've eaten it a few times. It smells awful (again, not as bad as a durian, though), but once you muscle past that it's not too bad. Maybe it's like eating stinky cheese. I actually really liked it in an ice cream.

So that's your new knowledge for the day!

Creepy crawly

Yes, this was in my yard ...

A snake catcher who works for the forestry department caught this rat snake with some help from the drivers in our compound. They used a rope to shake it out of a tree, and then he caught it by the tail as it flew through the air. The hunt took a while, and the snake's escape tactics included shedding its skin and leaving it as a decoy while it scooted from the tree into a nearby stand of bamboo. That's when I left the scene ...

Ashok called me back out once the snake was caught so I could get these photos.

It's very cool, but I'll admit that I look forward to a more boring back yard ...