Registered with the Registrar of Newspapers for India under R.N.I 53640/91

Vol. XXX No. No. 14, November 16-30, 2020

Pavithra’s Perspective

The Bridge to Nowhere

When at around three o’clock one balmy afternoon (when is it not balmy in Chennai?) I phoned my friend and mentioned my location, his horrified shriek nearly deafened my ear.

“You’re where?”

“The Broken Bridge. The one that just … stops in the middle. The one which comes in all those movies. You know, in Adyar –”

“I know,” he snapped. Then, after a pause. “And you’re all alone?”

“Yes.”

“Are you insane? Leave that place at once!”

It took ten more minutes to convince him that it was bright daylight and I was fine; there really was no one about at that hour. Not that I didn’t understand his concern; all the bottles strewn around made it extremely clear that the place was the popular haunt of “time-passers.” But his anxiety wasn’t just about local blokes – it was about dead ones too.

For, Adyar’s Broken Bridge has the reputation of being haunted.

As I stood at the edge and stared at the river sparkling in the late afternoon sun, the grassy verges that seemed miraculously devoid of garbage, the fluffy clouds, and the buildings rising hazily in the distance, it seemed idyllic. And rather difficult to believe that at a little distance, on October 24, 1746, the French East India Company and the Nawab of Arcot had fought each other in the Battle of Adyar.
Perhaps that’s where all the ghosts came from. Either way, this was a site that ought to be preserved, not just on celluloid, but paper too. Which I did.

Description: 3.5” by 5” approximately
Medium: Black and White Micron Pens:
0.20mm and 0.35mm.

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