The living count the dead

Chennai's morning people aren’t there at the beach on Monday. The walkers have been asked to stay away for a couple of days. We aren&#...

Chennai’s morning people aren’t there at the beach on Monday. The walkers have been asked to stay away for a couple of days. We aren’t taking any chances, says a policeman, it all happened so suddenly. There were no ‘‘symptoms’’. True, we didn’t see any ‘‘symptoms’’ either. The morning before, Marina was in its Sunday best. Some of us morning walkers lingered a little longer than usual because it was a leisurely weekend. When we left at 8 am, kids on their Christmas holidays were settling down to a long day’s cricket — the game Chennai loves.

Meanwhile, the Music Academy, a mere 10 minutes drive from the beach, was getting ready for the city’s next passion — Carnatic music. This is the time of the year when the city has its ‘‘season’’ when over a thousand music and dance performances are zipped into some five weeks. The music buffs on their way to the academy are suddenly overtaken by crowds fleeing in panic. From the surging sea, we are told. ‘‘Waves are advancing into the land and cars and motorbikes are floating!’’

It all sounds too filmy. Autorickshaws are ferrying women and children to the safety of high-rise apartments. Unwelcome guests run up the stairway to the terrace. Flat-dwellers stand around in utter disbelief, incapable of resisting the muscular auto-drivers. Muffled whispers suggest whether this is some new gimmick to invade and cart away our treasured white goods. How can the sea misbehave unwarned? Chennai has seen its share of cyclones and hurricanes which come with telltale signs: rains, gales and weather bulletins that go on and on about depression, wind velocity and the eye of the storm.

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But before the flat-dwellers can ponder more, the auto drivers are back to fetch the women and children. They say it’s all over. The damage has been done and the sea has receded.

The flat-dweller goes back to his living room TV set and the 30-minute refugees to whatever is left of their homes. And the music buffs resume their walk. The concerts are on. Just as well. You have to switch off your cellphones inside the concert hall. If those many people were at their cellphones, the networks would have been jammed. Unlike the onlookers who gathered at the beach, the flat-dweller and the music buff leave the authorities alone to do their job.

If anyone felt a little guilty about making a song and dance of the tragedy, this morning’s paper brought the welcome relief. There is a photograph of a rehab activist carrying the body of a young girl and grinning merrily into the camera.

8 injured, 20 detained following clashes amid Ganesha idol procession in K’taka’s Maddur

Cities2 hr ago

Eight people were injured and 20 detained in clashes during a Ganesha idol immersion procession in Maddur, Karnataka. A curfew has been imposed and additional forces deployed to ease tensions. The clash was sparked by alleged stone pelting, and police are working to prevent further escalation. Similar incidents in the past have caused significant damage.

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