MARINA: A day of untold stories.

Sunrise at Marina beach

Beaches, as I regard, are excellent situations for observing people and their mannerisms. They not only serve as a playground for recreation but also as a space of contemplation and more basically, as a place of occupation. For many, every new wave that sweeps ashore, brings hope of a different bearing. A hope of a square meal, a hope of a healthier life, a hope of succeeding, a hope of awakening and if nothing else, a hope of happiness. When one imagines a beach, the mind wanders around and almost always ends up in the more pristine and clear blue water beaches of some of the paradisiac islands. Stretching oneself on the sandy beaches under the warm Sun, playing a sport with modified beach rules, diving into the depths to discover marine co-habitants and dining by the calm shores under the night sky with a beloved, seem some of the indulgences that rapidly flow into our voyeuristic thoughts. Unless it’s a destination away from the mainland India, such beaches unfortunately are almost a rarity. Mainland India though compensates with beaches filled with everyday stories, mirroring the country and its cultural systems.

A sourdine pleasure every morning is for those hunched along the beaches for reasons other than watching the Sun come up. The lashing waves wash along a sense of comfort and relief, for someone as this boy, who rushes into the lap of sweeping waves. Almost 2.5 billion people worldwide suffer from the lack of hygienic sanitary facilities and our beaches aren't devoid of its symptoms, affecting the aesthetics of public beaches and ultimately posing a serious risk of health. Education and infrastructure are two important pillars for establishing a hygienic norm, as the governments, non-profits, general public and to an extent the corporates, stride together in an effort to achieve faeces-free beaches and streets.

Paddling fisherman basking in the early rays of the rising sun

Life starts even before the sunrise, for the returning fishermen with their overnight’s haul. Disparities show off better in the most basic of professions, as some motor themselves ashore while the lesser privileged paddle, translating into the volume of their overhauls. With the breaking of dawn and the arriving fishing boats, customers clad in nighties, with scarves tied around their heads, with grandchildren in one hand and an empty wire basket in another, all trickle in for the best available fishes at the cheapest of prices in the market.

A group of fishermen return ashore in their motorised boat

Although the men are away fishing almost every day, anxiety is not something everyone in their families get used to. Young children, especially, stand by the shore for hours in the mornings, in wait of their returning fathers, grandfathers and uncles. On this particular morning of bad weather, a girl child with her younger brother, anxiously awaited their father’s return, keeping themselves occupied by doing rounds around the perimeter of another boat parked on the beach. The children eventually recognized their father’s boat arriving at a distance, exalted in joy and relief, running homewards immediately to inform their waiting mother.

Fisherman returns after spending a night at sea

Sandy Beach Street for some hawker food @ Marina

As you stroll into Marina beach, plenty of makeshift hawker food stalls appear in sight. These streets, the Sandy Beach Streets, mostly illustrate the love Indians have for food, with dishes like Samosas, Pav Bhajis and Pani Puri easily being the crowd favourites. Irrespective of what you are eating, the stretch has a mien thickened with the wafting smell of fried fish. The smell so strong, you hallucinate even after having walked away from the beach! With all these eateries on one side, as entertainment for kids, giant wheels, merry go rounds and chairoplanes are strategically everywhere along the street, spun with bare hands by a couple of men for as less as 10 rupees/ride, with each basket in the giant wheels capable of holding four children snuggled together. The scenes brought back a gush of childhood memories. Going around my grandparents’ house, collecting money in return for every little favour, money to be spent at any many of the entertainment avenues at the village square. When we had enough, which usually was never the case, all cousins would run to the giant wheel, spend Rs.2/ride getting tucked into one of such cradles and go whirring around in a short shivaree, conveying an inevitable smile to my face.

A couple enjoys piping hot Bajjis @ Marina

Walking deeper into the food territory and for someone who isn’t indigenous to Chennai, the sight I was gaping at, was one of amazement. On a dismissive humid afternoon at Marina, while I could remotely imagine eating anything hot, I spotted this couple gorging on Chilli Bajjis dipped in spicy green chutney, served fresh out of the boiling cauldron. The Bajji vendor, as a canny advertising for his business, knew exactly how to attract his customers’ attention, adorning his little establishment on the beach, with the right kind of danglings!

A family gathers for a picnic at the beach

Coming to the beach is always an occasion for the middle class in India. Especially when it’s for the whole family to pack lunch, get dressed in their best clothes and head out for an excursion. They tug at each other, travel some distances over to the beach and find a comfortable space to huddle. As they settle down and the pitch of their conversations recede, they play their feet in grains of sand while dabbling in their steel lunch boxes, watching the scenes on the beach unfold. For such a family occasion to prosper, the weather has to be kind enough in a place like Chennai and on this day, the families were fortunate. Well, just about. Gloomy weather loomed due to the overbearing grey clouds, with a stiff breeze blowing onto the beach and beyond. As I walked past these families, I could smell the air thicken with the fragrance of home cooked biryani, the vapourizing salt and curious quidnuncs.

More family time at Marina beach

Santa and the banter

Public holidays bring throngs of people to the beach, offering interesting visual stories, unless there presents an opportunity to eavesdrop. I noticed a family of four spending time at Marina beach around midday. The father was watching over his children, while the youngest child, three year old Murugan, was busy splashing water at his sister. All this, while the Cotton Candy Man walked past him, unnoticed. The moment Murugan noticed his father buying cotton candy for Karthik, the second son, he paused for a second taking it all in and in the next instance forgot about playing in the water and charged towards his father with all the might he could muster on his tiny feet. He had a look of disbelief with tear clogged eyes, feeling deprived of cotton candy. As he neared the departing rufescent candy man, a Santa Claus mask distracted him. With every furthering step of the candy man, the wailing and the disappointment only grew louder. Eventually the father, who until then was enticing Murugan with the same pack of cotton candy, shelled out money for the sister to run after the candy man. Murugan’s joy knew no bounds as he held the mask in his hands, figuring it inside out. His innocence and exuberance upon having tried the mask led him to try and scare his father, while Santa was only flashing a cavorted smile at his victim!

“You can’t see me!”

Fishermen gathered at their makeshift homes

This picture was made with an irony playing out in front of me. The fishermen in the foreground watched the grey clouds gather above them while at a distance in the background, I could see the renovated Chepauk stadium, home to the TNCA and supposedly the most successful IPL team, the Chennai Super Kings, with its defamed board president being re-elected for 14th year in succession. The fishermen worried about their everyday existence sitting in front of their broken asbestos sheet shelters, while men at the stadium haggled over their own existence, the difference being, of only a few million dollars, swindling and a tainted reputation. Such is the irony, in the land of juxtaposed contrasts, I could only imagine who went home happier, worrying less of the impending future.

That imminent future

As I walked into the crowded section of the beach, I noticed these friends from a nearby neighbourhood undress for some frolic in the seawater. They gathered their clothes amidst non-degrading plastics and filth strewn around. What aggrieved me the most is the lack of collective responsibility of public spaces in India and environment at large. Not only do we disregard the environmental concerns over a constant grope at individualism, but we end up inconveniencing the rest, most often unintentionally, leading to a degraded environment outside a self-identified space. Other cause of concern is the game of shifting responsibilities we play as a society, in expecting somebody else to shoulder the obligation of safeguarding the surrounding, forgetting that our environment is a common collective of resources we all equally are responsible for, irrespective of the economic inequity.

If only we had magic bullets for instantly reversing the trends of demagoguery and avert the imminent cataclysm of consumerism, we would be walking our beaches again having not to worry of our next step landing in a pile of poop (read not just as human faeces, but also as debris of discarded plastics and other non-degradables) or petrified of having to see another dying albatross. Reality though dodged the magic bullets, and left us with an option to believe. A belief in concerted small steps in an effort, as Michael Jackson claimed, ‘…to make it a better place, for you and for me and the entire human race!’

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