The road trip- Part 1

It is a cloudy summer morning in Vellore. The enigma of the weather is a good start to our road trip. We make arrangements months ahead. After the rigmarole of MD entrance and final exams draw to a close, Alice and I decide to hit the road again. With my in Laws willing to take care of our daughter we are allowed to take the more adventurous route to the beach city of Mahabalipuram.

Two years ago we made this journey through Chennai. A thorough net search reveals that the travel via the ancient cities of Kanchipuram and Chengalpattu cuts down the travel by a couple of hours.

As we trudge along the bus station, it is not difficult to spot buses to Kanchipuram. A time saving service takes us to the temple city within 80 minutes. We board a bus with very few passengers. It being a Sunday and holiday season, the meagre number is a possibility. 

The clouds eclipse the sun and it makes the heat conducive for an annual getaway. We soon mount NH 4 and reach Ranipet in no time. Several youth alight the bus and their demeanour hints that they are their daliy shuttlers. Alice sleeps off and I try to focus on reading a book but fail miserably. 
 

With no option left , I glance at the passing horizon. A Church and a hospital are the two main edifices that leave mark in my mind. The Scudder Memorial Hospital was established in 1866 much before CMC Vellore by Dr John Scudder who came as a first batch of American missionaries to India.

 A multitude of shops and business establishments fill the market space. This small town was built around 1771 by Sadut-ulla-khan in the honour of youthful widow of Desingh Raja of GIngee opposite to Arcot on the northern bank of Palar river and named it Ranipettai.

 Palar river as of now is dry showing its bones as we race past the over bridge . 

I keep a close watch on the time to see if the driver keeps the promise of 80 minutes. By 75 minutes of travel, I see the structures of Kanchipuram appear from thick blanket of green. 

 The soaring placards of the fine silk sarees welcome us. The roads are too narrow to accommodate the rising traffic of the city. Bullock carts, buses and vehicles all jostle for space as the paths converge and move apart around temples big and small.  It is evident that the city is fighting to keep its ancient roots against the tide of westernisation. Many vendors still make their living by making garlands for temple proceedings. Streets are filled with devotees with a symbol of trident over their foreheads. It is only in the heart of the city that cleaner roads and shopping malls are found.

Kanchipuram takes pride in its long history. Early references to the city were made in writings dating back to 200 B.C. The place served as the early capital of the Cholas. The city reached the peak of its glory under Pallava dynasty. King Mahendra Varman 2 built the city, its temples and developed the city into a Hindu and Buddhist centre. Xuan Zang, the Chinese traveller wrote in the 640 AD about the ambience of learning and peaceful coexistence in the city.

We reach the bus station teeming with activity. We get down the bus even before it reaches its specific platform. I clock the watch. 82 minutes. ‘Not bad,’ we think.

Our plan is to take a call taxi to our destination from Kanchi. But the mood of adventure did not pass and we are ready to take one more bus ride. We cancel the taxi and start our hunt for a bus to Mahabalipuram.  We are enlightened by the conductors that there are no direct buses connecting the silk city and beach city. We have the option of boarding a bus to Chengalpattu. Mahabalipuram is a 40 minute drive from the later. 

We are hungry. We buy some Good Day biscuits and get into the honking bus. We drive past the silk city again . A perfunctory look at Kanchi suggests that the city had its better days. Public places emanate a strong stench of urine and mendicants seem to be everywhere. One can easily spot temples that have gone into chronic neglect and disuse.. Even the art of weaving the finest silk in the world is being bull dozed by corporates that are leaving a wafer thin margin for weavers making it an unprofitable trade. The beautiful Dravidian architecture that permeated even domestic constructions are now derelict and defunct. We should have put in better efforts to salvage our ancient arts.

The drive from Kanchi to Chengalpattu is a pristine country bus ride. The rural greenery and the lack of hustle reminded me of my childhood days. The bus stops at any place on request. The speed of 30 kms/hr is  outrageous in our urban circles. But the sheer human force of villagers getting on to the bus and the pleasant environs the bus took us to make us enjoy the ride. 

The summer heat catches up with us. We are sweating profusely and hunger gets the better of us. As we reach Chengalpattu the spirit of exploration gives way to a more basic instinct of accomplishment.  We have a bus to Mahabalipuram ready, but we are too tired for it. A call taxi arrives in no time and we are on the last leg of our journey.

The air-conditioning of the car pummels our tired bodies. The driver is a novice ignorant of the directions like his passengers. I have Google maps to my rescue. A couple of times we are misguided  by the acute turns of the road. The bumpy road gives way to the toll gate of East Coast Road. We pay the toll and reach Mahabalipuram. The roar of the waves is very audible. 

Three kms past mahabalipuram, we reach the resort we pre-booked on Goibibo.com.

Hunger is driving us bonkers. We leave the bags and ask for the restaurant. Fortunately there is a buffet lunch waiting for us.

The holiday begins!!!!!!!!