Madurai to Auroville

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We were quite excited about leaving Madurai; mostly because the destination was Auroville. During our research of India we came across this utopian haven where people live in unity, where religion and nationality is of no importance, where everyone is welcome, where sustainability is a core principle and where everyone is equal.

It does sound too good to be true, and, as it turned out, it was. We actually ended up spending almost a month in Auroville, which is a long time, but we wanted to get to the bottom of what this place is about. The next few blog posts will be about Auroville and our experiences there, and it will be about the application of the glorious principles mentioned above.

Training out of Madurai
We had bought the train tickets two weeks earlier in Trivandrum for the 6 am Chennai Egmore Express train which stops in Villupuram 40 kilometres from Auroville. This is the easiest and fastest route from Madurai.

The six hour train journey, which cost us Rs. 250, was very smooth, and had its moments of entertainment. Our first surprise came when we went to our seats: the three passengers opposite, two oldish women and their young male companion, were very friendly and they were smiling! We talked a bit, and the explanation for their non-Tamil behaviour soon became clear: they were from Kerala. One of the women in particular was chirpy and slapped our thighs on numerous occasions when something she thought was funny happened; e.g. when we helped discard her plastic food wrappings through the open train window. Throwing anything from food wrappings to unwanted offspring out of the moving train is common practice in India.

Four hours into the journey, the three Keralans got off and were replaced by four Tamils. One of them, a very thin and very old woman, who clearly spoke good English, and with whom it may even had been possible to have an interesting conversation, got into the window seat. A few minutes later the family from hell arrived. The men got seated in another compartment whilst the women were seated next to us. Critically, the larger one got the the seat next to the very thin and very old woman. We didn't really want to see the very thin and very old woman experience an untimely death in the seat in front of us, but if the train had done a sharp left turn, luckily trains don't do that very often, she would effectively have been covered in the pile of flesh that was lumped next to her.

Fatism is not a nice disposition, but fat Indians seem extraordinarily annoying. Whereas being fat in the UK is a working class phenomenon, in India it is middle and upper class. For some inexplicable reason these people seem to believe that being able fill themselves with junk, and the subsequent weight increase, is the perfect way of showing their wealth. Add to this that they are always loud and rude and you have a recipe for fatism.

In addition to threatening the very thin and very old woman's health and safety, the latest addition to our compartment displayed all the types of inconsiderate behaviour you can think of: They were talking in loud voices, they placed their excessive amount of luggage in inconvenient places restricting our movement, they kept reaching across to discard their numerous greasy food wrappings through the window, they spilt a bottle of oil on the compartment floor etc. The whole experience was the perfect photo opportunity, but there never seemed to be a good moment for asking the freaks for a photo.

Getting off in Villupuram
Arriving in Villupuram was a relief. We scrambled across flesh, luggage and grease and made it onto the platform. As we exited the station we had our first encounter with Tamil police. Close contact with Tamil police is not recommended; they have a reputation. Historically, they have been involved in removing local governments, and they are seen as an independent entity with its own rules by which it can abuse the local population. So, in Tamil Nadu it is the police that have the power whereas in Kerala it is the people that have the power. Mort, not having had a smoke for six hours, lit up as we were leaving the train station and was immediately corrected by a stern copper. In Kerala, where it is illegal to smoke in public places, he never had a problem even when smoking next to a policeman. So it was baffling that lighting up a few moments before leaving the station area, where smoking is illegal, provoked a reaction from the police; especially since smoking in public places in Tamil Nadu is fully legal. We escaped any further punishment.

Exiting the station was the start of our first conflict of interest on our trip in India. In some locations, especially around train stations and bus stations, you will encounter rickshaw drivers and taxi drivers wanting to sell their services. Different tactics are employed; some will approach you in a friendly manner and will manage to lure you into their vehicles. Others, like the ones at Villupuram train station, will stand in a line whilst shouting out their favourable prices. Standing is, in this instance, the wrong word to describe the behaviour of these taxi drivers. They were, literally, jumping and offering to take us to Pondicherry for Rs. 450. This price wasn't entirely unreasonable, but Mort, who is a stubborn type who has a severe dislike for taxi drivers, didn't want to accept this offer and suggested Rs. 400. The taxi drivers where having none of it, and because of Mort, and for the sake of principles and a saving of a magnificent Rs. 50, we had to walk with all our luggage to the bus station. Of course, Mort's view on taxi drivers was verified when we asked for the distance to the bus station. The most annoying of the taxi drivers told us that it was a two kilometre walk. A decent rickshaw driver expressed his contempt for the taxi driver, and told us that the correct distance was one kilometre.

Sarah was, for some reason, struggling on this particular day. The rucksack felt too heavy, and it was getting to her; she was looking pale and was leaning too far forward. She didn't sound too happy either. We arrived at the bus station, and fortunately plenty of buses went to Pondicherry. Unfortunately, it is a one hour ride away, and all the buses were jam packed. Mort did jump onto one, but Sarah was in no mood to follow, and he had to get off. We almost had an argument, and Mort eventually had to give in. We went to the nearby taxi stand and asked for the price to Pondicherry. Having decided to accept a Rs. 450 fare we thought that we would soon be lounging in a comfortable taxi. But the taxi drivers were having none of it. They quoted Rs. 550, a massive increase compared to the price from the train station, and were only willing to reduce it to Rs. 500. Mort refused and we went back to the bus stand. Sometimes, having principles can cloud your sense of sense, but, on this occasion, it did gift us with the experience of spending an hour standing on a crowded Tamil bus. Soon after getting back to the bus stand, a bus that wasn't quite full pulled up and we jumped on, Mort now carrying all the luggage in an attempt to smooth Sarah's deteriorating mood and posture. It took another two stops for the bus to fill up to a level that complicated breathing.

After an hour of desperately trying to stay attached to the overhead handrails whilst our eardrums were being unnecessarily compromised by the Tamil music blasting from the speakers in the bus, we finally arrived in Pondicherry. At least it only cost us Rs. 20.

Unfortunately, we had to get from Pondicherry to Auroville, a 10 kilometre drive. The obvious mode of transportation for this sort of journey is a rickshaw. The problem is that rickshaw drivers lurking around bus stations are notorious for charging more than they should. Pondicherry bus station is no exception. Mort had calculated that a reasonable price would be Rs. 150. The first rickshaw driver that approached happily suggested to take us there for Rs. 350. Mort told him that this was an outrageous price and that we would only pay Rs. 150. The problem for us was that it seemed too complicated to find a bus to Auroville, and that walking into Pondicherry to find a Rickshaw driver with a more reasonable price level was unrealistic considering how much strain Sarah had been put under previously in the day. Nevertheless, Mort refused the rickshaw driver. Soon, another one came by and offered to take us there for Rs. 250. We had to accept. As it turned out, Rs. 150 is a reasonable price; it is what the Auroville taxis charge. Anyone reading this who is going to Auroville, and who, as a matter of principle, doesn't want to get ripped off can call an Auroville taxi on 04132622833, 04132622489 or 04132622400. It is also possible to get one of these from Villupuram to Auroville for around Rs. 500.

We arrived, after the fastest rickshaw ride ever, at Atithi Griha Guest House. It is a good place to start a long stay in Auroville, and it is well guarded.

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This entry was posted by pundabee, on Saturday, January 27, 2007. You can leave your response.