No fast lanes in Chennai

“Why Chennai?”
“Are you alright?”
“I can get you a job here in Delhi if you want.”
These were the typical responses I got when I told my friends I was shifting to Chennai from Delhi. Later when they realized I was serious about moving to the South, the responses were something like this:
“Let me know if you need help down there.”
“Any day you want to come back, just give me a call.”
My dear friend Pallav was okay with the decision after the usual “WHY?” He had studied and started his career in Chennai so he knew a bit about the place. He told me that the city was nice. “It is a metropolis without the trappings of a metro.”
I couldn’t fathom how right he was till I landed in Chennai.
Coming from a place which is forever on the move, Chennai was a bit of a shocker. I go to my local grocer every day to buy bread, eggs etc. The grocer is about 200m away and it takes me about half-a-minute to get there (yes, environmentalists. I am your greatest enemy. I drive even for a distance of 200 m). But it takes me about 40 minutes to get a loaf of bread and half-a-dozen eggs. Why? Because the shopkeeper talks on the phone for 10 minutes before moving his butt. Then even as he is picking out the eggs, his friend – the shopkeeper next door – says something to him and they start talking (BTW: In Chennai, even when two people are joking, to an outsider it sounds like they are about to come to blows.)
This is a great city.
At department stores – even big chains like Reliance – you have to wait in queue for about 20 minutes before you are served. And it’s not because there’s a huge crowd. Because the guy or girl supposed to be manning the counter decides to take a chat break. And then, even the manager can’t get her back to the counter.
Nearly every day, I drive behind an auto going at a speed of 15 kmph. When I somehow manage to overtake from the wrong side, I find there is a long trail of vehicles following a couple of cyclists who are talking and not giving anyone the way. The road ahead of them would be completely empty. And people behind the cyclists wouldn’t care either.
I thought money talks everywhere. It can’t utter a word in Chennai, it seems. I often ask my watchman to go to the market for me. I offer him money. But he just refuses. I ask a lot of my Men Friday to do something extra for me in return for a generous tip. They don’t bother.
This is a strange city.
But there's one upshot to it. I'm now thinking of buying a cycle or a scooty for a lazy ride around town. When I can take it easy -- even take the cycle to office. How many of us in Delhi or Bombay can think of doing that.