Puducherry diary

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Puducherry. Where I meet Myself.


 A part of me that wants to live in the bygone era, a part that wants to unravel the spirituality, a part that wants to live life; I live them all when I am in the quaint coastal town of Puducherry.

One part of the city displays its Tamil heritage, the other- white town (Ville de blanc) basks in the philosophy of Laissez-faire. This unique Franco -Tamilain mélange offers the city its unique aesthetics, traditions, histories, and cultural anomalies.

It’s a feast to my eyes, the site of electric blue street signs beginning with “Rue”, vintage bicycles perched up against vibrant yellow walls with a hanging lamp. When a tender coconut seller greeted every passerby with resounding Bonjour on the cobbled streets of the white town, the tunes of old French songs played in my head



On one side of the white town, Rue Romain Rolland’s occur yellow heritage villas, hipster cafes, and high-end boutiques offer pleasures of life. On the other, Rue de la Marine’s elegant grey Ashram building quatres invite you to take a journey within you. The building was a centre where Sri Aurobindo and the Mother (Mirra Alfassa) worked on integral yoga.
As I stood in front of the flower-decked samadhi 
my wandering thoughts settle for a  
 while. Those moments of silence were so blissful. As I wander through the Ashram’s living quarters, the bakery department, the whiff of freshly baked bread filled the lanes with the sweet-smelling scent of solitude-sanctuary

Life in Pondicherry drifts along thus. Much like the waves of Bay of Bengal that come crashing against a mile-long Promenade and its pier. My thoughts arrive and recede, only to arrive again.  I discovered another gem when I heard the Sunday mass in French, at the salmon-pink coloured building of Eglise de Notre Dame des Anges. The name left me with joyous thought that the French Riviera of the east has its own Notre Dame too. 











 

 

 

 

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