The Elevated Corridor

Chennai, the capital city of the beautiful Dravidian state Tamil Nadu, lies on the Coromandel Coast off the Bay of Bengal. It is the biggest cultural, economic and educational hub in the whole of South India. And apart from that, to every common man, it is the land of hope and dreams.

Every day thousands of migrants turn up in this beautiful city with dreams, each sky high. The city in turn has never failed fulfilling one, and has always stood in catering the needs of every needy. Being rated as the safest city in the whole of nation, there is nonstop expansion across its horizon as every new soul into the city wishes to be fondly known as “Chennaiite” and retain the title for a longer tenure.

With every progressing day, new innovations are blooming up across the city and the supporting manpower is rising on par to it too. As the city hosts a broad industrial base ranging from automobile, hardware manufacturing, and information technology to healthcare, the diversity of immigrants into the city also vary on a huge scale. And as the immigrant count escalates, so is the nativity factor that decelerates. Hence a transformation in the lifestyle of the inmates is clearly seen almost everywhere. People try to impersonate every other one and end up with a synthetic outlook upon them. Slowly the culture of using cards over cash has started ruling the economy here.

Standing amidst hundreds of synthetic characters around me, my eyes, still tired, tries very hard to get the first few glance of the train entering the station. The terminus where I am waiting is one of the most bustling localities in the city. Over the years, with the boom in Information Technology sector, this region had earned itself the title of being the most densely populated with new residential and office buildings coming up every single day. So commuting by road here is a nightmare and hence I choose the rail.

Chennai has a wide rail network, supported by the suburban train's running on EMUs and the metro rail. The MRTS (Mass Rapid Transit System), a line of the suburban network, runs across most of the clogged hot-spots of the city, thus commuting around 100,000 happy commuters every single day. It's network spans around 19.34 kms, around the city, covering 17 busy train station. It is the first elevated railway line to be brought to operation in India. One distinguishing fact about this corridor is that the rail line follows the course of Buckingham Canal, which runs in parallel to the Coromandel Coast.

Back at the terminus, dusk had taken charge over the city and with each minute passing by, the train station was filling up. People all around me looked either tired after the day’s work or were adrenaline packed, though I couldn’t guess it out how. Finally the loud horn honked and the train rolled into the terminus, just like a lazy ass. It finally puffed off and halted. 

A myriad of travelers deported madly onto the platform and they hardly showed any mercy to fellow commuters standing there, while making their way out. I had to ditch my head just in time to avoid getting hurt. So as the mad crowd slowly moved off the station, people, who were waiting to get board, were now able to move around the station more freely and find a place in the train.

Moments later the signal turned green, the train drifted off the station and very soon it picked up momentum. Rather than getting myself seated in one of the dumb seats, surrounded completely with dizzy people, I chose to stand by the door and enjoy the evening breeze. With momentum pitching in every second and the train rocking along its rails, I was having a merry time by leaning out of the rake, one hand still clutching tightly to the iron rod that was welded strongly into the frame. Unlike the metro rail, trains running on this line did not have automatic doors, which gave me the privilege to connect with the nature. With every scene unfolding very fast, it was really difficult to choose between what to see and what not to see.

As the rake rolled out of Taramani train station, it made a sharp turn, entering the city’s bustling IT corridor. With high rise building docked on either side of the corridor, innovations were overflowing out of every window there. All the Multi-National Corporation had an offshore centre in one of those buildings, which housed thousands of slaves (IT Professionals) working day in and out, tirelessly, totally forgetting the true meaning of a healthy balanced life. They just had their eyes glued onto the monitors and got their necessities fulfilled, all with just a click of a button and not moving their ass’s even by an inch.

With every passing station, people hopped in and out of the train, while I continued to stay on near the door and watch the events flatten around me. We crossed the famous Rajiv Gandhi IT expressway and the train came to a halt at one of the city’s opulent locality. 

With the Adyar River flowing gracefully around, some of the city’s finest architecture was nestled close by it. Be it the Theosophical Society or the Anna Centenary Library, the largest library in South Asia, or the Leela Palace hotel or the Sun Network Headquarters, every single piece of architecture adorned the beauty of the region. Though the average ridership in these train station were less when compared to the IT corridor, people here still preferred to take the train occasionally.

So as the train moved further, the city was glowing with the evening light. Children were playing merrily everywhere and household women were having their usual evening chat/gossips. Couple of stations passed on meantime and I checked my watch to know how long I have been travelling. To my dismay the watch had stopped working long back. I tried my luck in fixing it, but nothing turned out fruitful.

It was then that something lifted my spirits off, just enough to reroute my senses from the stupid watch. The rich aroma of grounded coffee seeds, the authentic feel of Madras, blew me off the ground. The train was closing into the suburbs of Mylapore, whose townsfolk were a separate caste of people, in the Hindu religion, called the Brahmans. They specialized in authentic South Indian cuisine and the air around Mylapore bore its aroma always, though not now but some 15 years back. All i could see now was that the place has been commercially exploited and naturally lacked its nativity touch. I could sense that very slowly Chennai was losing its true identity. With a jerk once again and bringing me back to my senses, the train departed out of the station and was now rolling along the shores of the Marina Beach, the world’s second longest beach. It is one of the most visited hangout destination for every Chennaiite.

What followed next down the line were some of the iconic buildings. Be it the M.A.Chidambram Cricket Stadium, the state of the art secretariat complex that later turned into Government Hospital, the Ripon building and the Central Railway station, each of them had a glorious history of its own and they all stood as a pride of Chennai. Closing in by the Central Railway Station, the elevated corridor came to end thereby running at grade, parallel to the main Southern Rail Network line. The train decelerated and came to a halt at the Park Town train station, one of the busiest in the entire route.

Most people had just de-boarded and there were only few who carried on with the journey. As the train moved out of the station, what I witnessed out there hit me pretty badly. It was over and all a mismatched scene to what I had witnessed an hour back, all through the way.

The Buckingham canal that ran parallel to the rail line had housed thousands of residents on its bank. The BPL (Below Poverty Line) folks had set up their shelter there, irrespective of the risks that they may encounter at any point in time. They knew the canal better than us but since they had no other place to settle in, they chose here, still aware of its dangers. 

Apart from the people over there, the canal itself was in a very bad state. Being polluted from sewage and industrial effluents, it had established itself as a breeding ground for malaria-spreading mosquitoes. As I swiftly day-dreamed on how they survived in the small makeshift there and what their daily life was all about, a scene of compassion stuck me in reality. 

I even heard from my fellow commuters that during the massive flood that stuck the city in 2015, the entire hamlet was washed away, as every river around the city was dangerously overflowing. Visualizing the river taking away the people’s life and belongings, a cold shiver ran down my spine immediately. 

6 months after the massive destruction, people still tend to settle here. They had witnessed the worst days of their life. But still they prefer to return back to the same hell, which once took away their near and dear. It was a blank puzzle for me trying to understand the people's mentality as to why they came back? As I started thinking deep about it, a plethora of question started bombarding within me.

Aren’t they given a proper place to build house? 

Aren’t they employed even to a minor wage? 

Why are they leading such a sinful life? 

Why has not the government taken any counter measure to relocate them from the canal bank? 

When the city is inflating with innovations, why are these people still devoid of the benefits? 

Are they supposed to lead such a desolate life ever?

Are the benefits of the government only to be reaped by those who are elevated in their life, in terms of economy? It makes me wonder if the elevated rail corridor itself exhibits the status of every single Chennaiite, in disguise. You ask me how? Check it out yourself.

Right from the moment the train climbs up the corridor at Taramani, the kind of people over the zone are all cash filled. They are the few who reap more than what they sow. And then half way through the line, a mixed bag of liberty is been relished. They are an assorted group of people, who still stand high in the society. And as the train rolls down at the Park Station, there is almost nothing left out of the bag, for the cash strapped people over there, to taste. This discrimination is unfair as every individual shares equal right in this democratic nation. So how come a discrimination like this rule over the land?

A binding change is vital for the residents along the Buckingham Canal!!! The government has to come up with a plan, somewhere in the near future, right before another devastation shows up its ugly face and carries away innocent lives.

And as I was desolate, thinking hard, about the plight of those underprivileged, the train gave one loud horn, bringing me back to reality and signalling me to get my ass out of the rake, as it had finally docked at the terminus and was getting itself prepared for the journey back.