The allure of Marina Beach, Chennai

The moment Mahatma Gandhi’s statue loomed large, you knew you had reached Marina Beach in Chennai. A crow would be invariably perched upon the Mahatma’s shoulder or sometimes on his crown. Its blackness blended with the rest of the statue- it appeared an integral part of the sculpture! Edward Elliot’s Road as the road was called then, ended at the statue. From the statue, the sphere of vision suddenly expanded, stretched like a screen in cinemascope! All you saw was an expanse of sand. The ocean, in the far distance, was a thin ribbon of blue.

The excitement to get to the water could not be contained anymore. Running on the sand was not easy. You removed the slippers, took it in hand, and darted off like a 100 meters sprinter. Even the stiff sea-breeze could not hold you back. The sprint ended when you felt the wetness of the sand and came face to face with the ocean. The majesty of the ocean is unmatched and at Marina Beach, it was available in its uninhibited fullness. There was no obstruction, man-made or imposed by nature, to block your vision. It was sea and sand everywhere.

Each time you went to the Marina, you promised not to go any deeper into the water and get the clothes wet. Initially, you followed the script. The waves were mellow and played with you like a spritely puppy. They hugged your feet and as they retreated, tickled your toes. Wave upon wave stirred up and crashed as if made of sugarcane juice- greenish-blue in color and creased with white foam. You got used to the norm and became complacent- that’s when a monster wave came from nowhere and trounced everything in its wake, and when it retreated, you were wet from top to toe!

A trip to Marina was complete only when you played in the sand. You either dug a well or built a mountain. If it was a well, it had to be deep enough till you met the water. Sometimes, you abandoned the project midway because you disturbed a crab’s family. If it was a mountain, it had to be tall and patted to a finish with wet sand. You dug tunnels from four sides till four sets of tiny fingers could shake hands inside the mountain! Later, you scoured the sand till the pockets bulged with the booty of colorful sea-shells.

As the sun set, darkness was quick to descend. The ocean looked more ominous now. The waves were darker and bigger, and the roar, a decibel louder. A twinkle in the distance indicated a lonesome ship. A row of lights in the distance marked the harbor. The light-house now came alive. Its encircling beams cast a patch of light in each direction. It was time to head home.

Beach vendors enticed you with raw mangoes- sliced into thin strips and arranged in an arc, like miniature coconut fronds! Smeared with a generous coating of chilly-powder and salt, raw mangoes were an irresistible treat. It did not matter that it was too spicy and the sides of the mouth burnt with its tingling sensation! As we hopped into the car, it could not be more uncomfortable! The clothes were dripping wet, caked with sand and clung to the skin. And the entire evening was fanned by Chennai’s summer heat and humidity. Still, there was not one complaint. It was the best evening you could wish for.

I have not been to Marina Beach for a long time. The entire essay has been written from memory dating back to childhood. But memory is a great companion. As you think, more details emerge and you are transported back in time. I hope the Marina is still as inviting as in my dreams. I hope to go to the beach and find that child once more. I hope to stand at the ocean-edge with my hand held out and ask, “Appa! If I swim in this direction, where will I reach?” “May be, Sri Lanka!” “And what if I swam keeping this angle, appa?” “Well, who knows? May be, you will reach America!”