Finding calm at the MA Chidambaram Stadium

So many vehicles, two wheels, four wheels, even three wheels. For a kid, most probably a boy, from anywhere outside of India, it would have been wheelie heaven. For me, it was one of the most intimidating sights I have ever seen. And it was only Chennai, not one of the really traffic-plagued cities like Bangalore or Mumbai.

Chennai is a different city to the one I met four years before when I came on a trip to India to discover my ancestry. To my eye, the sheer volume of vehicles on the road has increased many fold. It’s the most literal illustration of globalisation in Indian cities and to see it with my own eyes was both overwhelming and exhilarating.

To sit in it was nothing short of exciting. I’m certain that more accidents don’t happen on Indian roads because of the sheer deftness of the drivers. Their instincts are sharper than most fielders as they dodge and swerve while managing to hoot and act as tour guides at the same time. A journey as short as five kilometres can take up to 40 minutes but the spectacle is worth every second.

Luckily, I was able to find two elements of zen in what seemed like a sea of chaos on the roads, both of them in the MA Chidambaram Stadium. The first I saw seconds after entering. There is small temple just inside the Pattabhiraman Gate. It’s a humble structure; it’s shape nothing more than one of those houses I was taught to draw without lifting a pen. It had a small picture of Lord Ganesh. I was told that some of the officials of the Tamil Nadu Cricket Association are religious and the modest temple they have erected at the main gate creates an immediate sense of calm.

The second came as I was walking to collect my accreditation from the office. While marvelling at the stadium, some parts on the outside of which are still under construction, I heard a very familiar jingle. So familiar that I hold myself back from doing the dance, because it didn’t seem the proper thing to do in a city where all the woman I noticed on the street were in traditional clothing. It was the song that defined the football World Cup in South Africa eight months ago – Shakira’s groovy track, Waka Waka.

Those first notes of the song that preached how Africa’s time had come never fail to warm my heart and hearing it India brought the concept of the World Cup alive for me. Of course, this is not India’s first shot at hosting the tournament, but, like all major events in developing countries, the questions raised about their readiness have been tantamount and often unfair. For the record, the systems worked as efficiently as they did in South Africa (which means very efficiently) and the volunteers in the stadium were some of the most helpful people I have ever come across.

Watching my first bit of live cricket in India – the warm-up match between South Africa and Zimbabwe – was almost a religious experience itself. Having a few thousand people cheering all the way was beyond heavenly. My only concern came when it was time for them to head home and back into the traffic of that bustling city.