Madras may have transformed into Chennai today, but for millennials who grew up here or moved to the city at a young age, it was more than just a place, but an emotion. They came of age before smartphones became an inseparable part of everyday life, when watching a movie meant standing in a queue at Sathyam Cinemas, weekends meant shopping at Spencer Plaza or Pondy Bazaar, and evenings were often spent at Marina or Elliot’s Beach. This Madras Day (August 22), we take a nostalgic look at some of the things millennials miss about the Madras they grew up in.
MTC bus rides
For many millennials, taking an MTC bus alone for the first time was a rite of passage. You memorised the route, identified landmarks near your stop and learnt to navigate the city without Google Maps. For those who weren't from Chennai, boarding a 12B that plied between Vadapalani and Pattinapakkam almost made you feel like you were part of the journey of Shaam, Simran and Jyothika from 12B, the film. You also learnt the art of buying a bus ticket, passing your money through a chain of passengers until it reached the conductor, and then anxiously waiting for your change to make its way back. And if you happened to miss your stop, you simply relied on the conductor or a fellow passenger to point you in the right direction. You soon mastered another Chennai bus-stop skill, standing a little away from the stop because you knew the bus would halt a few metres ahead. And catching an auto meant haggling over the fare and keeping a watchful eye on the meter to make sure it wasn’t racing ahead. After all, there were no apps to book a ride or tell you the fare.
Weekends at Spencer Plaza
Today, going to a mall might mean shopping, meeting a friend, catching a movie or grabbing a quick meal. But back then, Spencer Plaza on Anna Salai was a destination in itself. You could spend an entire afternoon window-shopping, browsing music and book stores, checking out clothes and accessories, and eventually sharing an ice cream with friends before heading home. And then there were the vendors outside the mall selling pirated books (we're guilty of buying a few ourselves) which made the whole experience even more memorable.
The single-screen cinema experience
Before movie tickets could be booked with a few taps, you stood in queues hoping the tickets wouldn't sell out. For many, Sathyam Cinemas was the setting for first dates, family outings and long-awaited movie plans. And then there was the popcorn. For some of us, a tub of Sathyam popcorn could proudly double as dinner. It was also the era of single-screen theatres, when Devi, Abirami and Shanthi were names every moviegoer knew. Going to the cinema was an outing in itself, be it physical tickets, massive cut-outs, first-day-first-shows and heated debates over which theatre offered the best experience. And if one friend was put in charge of buying the tickets, you never really knew whether they had succeeded until you reached the theatre.
The joy of discovering books and music
There was something special about walking into a bookstore looking for the latest Sidney Sheldon or Jeffrey Archer novel. When Jeffrey Archer announced a visit to India one year, many of us happily stood in line at a bookstore just to get our copy autographed. Then came the Harry Potter mania, with bookstores buzzing with excitement as a generation dreamed of Hogwarts and desperately wanted to belong to Gryffindor.
Music stores were often tucked inside bookstores or located right next door. You could put on a pair of headphones, listen to a few tracks and decide whether an album was worth buying. There was a certain pride in owning the latest AR Rahman cassette, or a Backstreet Boys or Westlife CD, and carefully building your own music collection.
The College Road featured in Kadhal Desam was enough to make an entire generation dream about studying there, with AR Rahman's Kalloori Salai providing the perfect soundtrack. Of course, we eventually discovered that the real College Road looked nothing like the dreamy version in the movie.
Shopping in T Nagar
For many, Pondy Bazaar represented the thrill of street shopping. The pavements were lined with roadside vendors selling clothes, bags, jewellery, accessories, toys and countless little things you didn't know you needed until you spotted them. Shopping meant squeezing through crowds, stopping at every stall, bargaining over prices and walking away feeling triumphant about the bargain you had managed to get. Getting separated from your friends in the sea of shoppers in Ranganathan Street and somehow finding them again was almost an achievement in itself. There were also rows of tailors working out of small basement shops, where you could get a salwar kameez stitched in remarkably little time.
The beach as the ultimate hangout
Marina and Elliot's Beach were the original social spaces. You didn't need a trendy café, a reservation or an Instagram-worthy backdrop. A packet of sundal, some sea breeze and a group of friends were enough to fill an entire evening. People went to the beach to talk, walk, watch the sunset, play cricket, eat bajji or simply sit around with nowhere else to be. You didn't need an app to tell you what was good. You simply knew because someone in your family had already tried it.
Perhaps that's what millennials miss most about old Madras, not just the places themselves, but the slower, more spontaneous life that happened around them. The city has changed, but the Madras they grow up in still lives on in the memories, sounds, tastes and little rituals they carry with us.
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