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Vol. XXXIV No. 16, December 1-15, 2024
Searching for a Street Sign – My Arcot Road Adventure
-- by Lashman
Last month, when the Editor of Madras Musings asked me one evening to head to Arcot Road “urgently” to take a picture of the street sign bearing its name, I thought, well, this isn’t the most absurd or impossible request he’s thrown at me thus far, and set off on this straightforward (I assumed) quest a couple of hours later.
Arcot Road can be described as a 12km stretch connecting areas like Nungambakkam, Vadapalani, Valasaravakkam, and Porur, constructed in the 1940s, OR as “that wretched road where the Metro rail works are endless, and should be avoided unless you particularly adore wasting hours of your life in traffic.” While I firmly subscribe to the latter definition, I consoled myself with the thought, “After all, it’s just a matter of snapping a photo of a signboard and returning. How hard could it possibly be?” (Spoiler alert: Very hard).
I booked an Uber to Arcot Road and revealed my objective to the driver. To my surprise, the driver didn’t instantly cancel the ride, and even offered to help me search for the elusive signboard. “Miracles do happen,” I thought, and thus began my quest at Kodambakkam, where the road officially starts.
I scanned every nook and corner for the street sign, which, to my astonishment, was nowhere to be found. Strange, as I naively, but reasonably, assumed that there would be a sign at the very start of the road. Nevertheless, I carried on, clinging to a delusional sense of hope that it might appear further along the way.
My journey continued: Vadapalani? No sign. Alwartirunagar? Still no sign. Valasaravakkam? Not a single sign of the sign. By this point, I was growing restless, knowing the road would literally end a few metres ahead at Porur signal. To make matters worse, my Uber driver’s initial goodwill was rapidly waning, his indignation becoming increasingly evident.
But wait – surely the sign would be at Porur, the endpoint from Nungambakkam’s perspective or the starting point if approached from…. well, Porur. With this logic, I arrived at Porur signal, disembarked, and amidst the chaotic traffic, desperately searched for the street sign. “It has to be here,” I told myself. “There’s no way it doesn’t exist.” But, indeed, there was no sign there too.
With grave disappointment, after travelling over 10 kilometres in search of a non-existent sign, I had to face reality. The relentless Metro construction and constant digging had likely led to its removal. To me, it screamed of the negligence and apathy on the part of the Madras Corporation. It struck me – without Google Maps, which I thankfully turned to, how would anyone unfamiliar with the area even know they were on Arcot Road?
This journey was also an eye-opener as to the state of the road. The unceasing traffic, now considered ‘normal’, and even a definitive characteristic of the road, was one thing, but the utter disregard for pedestrians was startling. There were no pavements, and the occasional undeterred pedestrian braved an onslaught of vehicles on their way. While I understand the importance of Metro rail projects for urban development and connectivity, I couldn’t help but wonder why the Corporation hasn’t taken steps to ensure pedestrians still have a safe path.
Recently, I came across a reel on Instagram where the creator joked about wanting three things in life: a soulmate (understandable), an inexhaustible bank balance (naturally!), and to live in a walkable city. At the time, the last wish seemed odd – why navigate your city on foot when you could simply enjoy the luxury of a fat bank balance? But walking is fundamental to how we live, and any barrier to it affects us directly and in a profound way.
After my adventure on Arcot Road, however, I now thoroughly empathise with the creator and have gained a newfound appreciation for countries (looking at you, Europe) where walking remains the most preferred and practical mode of commuting.
I returned and reported on my failure to the Editor and he, in his heartless fashion set me off to search for the MKN Road signboard in Alandur. But that is a story for another column.
