You heard me. Pondy Bazaar is an important commercial hub in Chennai, India.

It consists of streets lined with stores and street merchants. It’s crazy crowded. Walking through the streets your senses are assaulted. The sights of thousands and thousands of people sifting past each other and through merchants’ wares; the sounds of music and announcements over loudspeakers; the smells of thousands and thousands of people sifting past each other and through merchants’ wares; the taste of the local cuisine and custard apples; the gentle touch of the pickpocket caressing the inside of your back pocket.

One of the highlights of my visit to India was a trip to this place. The rickshaw ride there was exciting and death-defying. Upon arrival, my friend, Matt had to use the men’s room. We found one at a gas station. As Matt headed to the door, a gas station employee came running. “Don’t go in there, don’t go in there! Too smelly!” Too late. Matt had already passed into another dimension. He emerged a couple of minutes later, white as a ghost, looking as if he’d just passed through the bowels of hades. “You gotta get a picture of that.” I didn’t dare go near it. I figure that if a gas station employee in a town like Chennai figures it’s too disgusting to pee in, I don’t want anything to do with it.

Then we walked through the bazaar. The onslaught of merchant persistence is mind-boggling. “Sir, I give you best price. Only 300 rupies! For you, 250.” They unwrap and display their goods the moment you make eye-contact. Stop and buy one, they insist you buy two. The beggars are equally persistent. Little old ladies, children, people sitting in carts, missing toes, dressed in rags. Tugs on your heart strings, but I’m told by the locals to keep walking. “Ilay! po PO!” ( The equivalent of “No! Piss off!” ) Then I felt something in my back pocket. I turn around, fist cocked ready to swing at….. a cute little girl, about 4 years old, in a pretty yellow dress. Yes, this little girl was trying to steal my wallet! She then had the nerve to start asking me for money! “Food, sir. Food.” Heart breaking.

It started to look like rain. So we stopped for a glass of fruit juice. They grind and blend the fruit on the spot to make the juice. Delicious pineapple juice for me, some sort of lime something for Matt. The place wreaked, though with flies everywhere. So I stepped outside. The merchant who sold us the juice came outside and passed me a spoon and half of a weird looking fruit. He said it was a custard apple. Butt ugly, full of hard seeds, but VERY delicious. It had a taste and consistency identical to custard. Scoop the custard, spit the seeds.

I left the place with a bunch of souvenirs and memories tattooed to the inside of my brain. Today is my last day in India… I could write more posts about my trip, and I probably will. This was indeed an experience I’ll never forget.

Check out the attached videos. This first one is of the final few minutes of our auto rickshaw ride to Pondy Bazaar. Listen to the driver at the end say “Pondy Bazaar sir.”

This next video is a short video I took while walking through a section of the market. Forgive the jumpiness of the video. I had my camera held against my chest as I walked through the crowd.

Check out other Youtube videos of India I’ve posted.