Bahadur came back from Arani after only two days. Mary reported that he had donated all his money to the temple (he had borrowed Rs. 1,000 from another watchman) and felt no better, so came back.
I've praised Mary's kolams so much that they're getting larger and larger. Kolamavu (rice flour) is showing up more often on the grocery list, and they're beginning to look as though one should not step on them, lest one fall right inside to somewhere.
On Saturday we made what turned out to be a stupid decision, to take visiting friends to Mahabalipuram for lunch. On the way we noticed more traffic than we had expected, and realised that it was Kaanum Pongal, the final day of Pongal, when one goes out and visits people, or goes on family outings. The East Coast Road is full of entertainment spots, so Mayajaal was jammed, and VGP was jammed, and so was Dizzee World, and so was the place where they used to have performing dolphins, until they all died. (The poster now shows a seal balancing a red ball on its nose; that's all I can say about it.)
At the outer edge of Mahabalipuram, where we planned to have lunch, there was full police bandobast (a nice Persian compound - the 'o' in the middle is an 'and' - it means literally 'binding and fastening' - but is used to mean arrangement, management, system...), and we were sent on to the Pondicherry road. We thought we could turn into the town at the next side road, but instead we were herded, along with many minivans and busses full of cheerful people, onto a large field which had been converted into a temporary parking lot.
We tried to get information from several policemen, and from local youth who tried to collect Rs. 20 from us to enter a place we didn't want to enter. When we refused, one of them banged the palm of his hand on the car again and again, with a terrible, angry face. Finally I got out and applied my Tamil to a policeman, who said that the whole town was full because of 'Kaanum Pongal function,' and all the roads were blocked. If we wanted to enter, we would have to go 'by walk.' Otherwise we would have to turn back.
Well we did, and this time the policeman at the first bandobast allowed us to go to the hotel for lunch. We had a good lunch, almost alone, because it was so hard to get in; strolled near the beach for awhile, and made a second bad decision, to have tea at Fisherman's Cove on the way back.
Fisherman's Cove was also very crowded. We decided we'd better really start back before it got dark. As soon as we drove out of the gate, a group of children surrounded the car, chanting "Pongal kaas (cash)! Pongal kaas!" We had to wait for them to tire of us before we could go on.
As we drove the road became more and more jammed, mostly with vans and trucks stuffed with poor people; and motorcycles carrying families of four. The car got scraped twice, once by a Share Taxi - a tin box on the structure of an autorickshaw; and once by a motorcyclist who dislocated the side mirror. We finally got back, very late, feeling as debilitated as ancient mummies brought to horrified life, and wishing to return quickly to the silent peace of the tomb.
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