Sonati and Badri are away in Bangalore, so I left Varun to finish cooking, and went to Karumandurai this morning to shop.
As I finished at Kasi Chettiar’s place, we heard the buzz of raised voices and a whole lot of strangers walking along the opposite row of shops.
Kumar told me that these were “Highways” people, and they wanted the shops to be removed. As we were talking, a Highways department truck came along, the driver put his head out of the window and told Kumar to remove the awning and structures that encroached onto the road.

I headed for Jothi’s vegetable shop and the heart of the action. As many of you who have visited here know, this line of shops is the heart of Karumandurai. Many shops have been there for decades and it is moot whether they are encroaching on Highways land or the Highway has encroached on the line of shops.
There were JCBs parked opposite the shops and a whole lot of men walking around making threatening noises (Shades of West Bank or Gaza Strip). The threat was that if the shopkeepers did not disassemble the shops and move away, the JCBs would start the demolition, and the material would be taken away by truck.

Apparently the shopkeepers had received warnings, but no-one had taken these seriously. Last week the shops collected 1000 Rs per shop and some 60,000 Rs was “sent” to the Highways Department. Presumably the concerned person didn’t receive it. Or there was an honest officer for once. In any case, today’s action was unexpected. There was also a posse of some 15–20 (non-local) policemen and policewomen. These were not directly interacting with the shopkeepers, but it was a show of strength, alright.

One of the Highways chaps was brandishing an aruval, and he started cutting some ropes and hacking at some of the posts.This of course set off an altercation with the owner of the shop and tempers were rising. I stepped between the two and said, “Wonga kitta thaan aruvaal irukku; neenga sollaratha thaan kekkanum” (You have the knife, we have to listen to you). The chap continued to glower, but the shopkeepers laughed and the tension eased.

Jayavel gave me a “kadaisi tea” and bemoaned the fact that he hadn’t had notice of today’s action. “At least I wouldn’t have bought so much milk”.
I did a self-service kadaisi vyabaram (last shopping) in Jothi’s shop, measuring out whatever I needed. I told Jothi that I would pay him next time. I then went down the Salem road towards the Police Station to take a look. All the shops on the “wrong” side of the road were dismantling things. All the shops on the “right” side of the road were taking down the extra little bits that encroached on the road. Some of the oldies were looking really forlorn. And why not? Some of the richer people like Jothi and Murthy will move to the new “complex” inside the bus stand, where they have already rented shops. But for most others there is literally no place to go.

I remember, when I was nine or ten, and walking around Flora Fountain with my dad, there was a shout of “Bhaago, gaadi aa rahi hai”, and within moments, there was a stream of hawkers on the pavement who had dismantled their shops and were running away, carrying amazing amounts of stuff on their heads. My dad told me that they would disappear now, but would be back the next day.

Here in Karumandurai, the way things are going, I doubt that there will be any resurrection tomorrow. It is going to be Karumandurai with an excised heart. To me at any rate, 26/11 is going to signify the day Karumandurai “City Centre” was razed to the ground.