A couple of weeks back, Facebook reminded me that it’s been three years since I moved to Boston. Three years of new people, a different lifestyle, cold winters, and colder springs. No, this is not a blog about how moving to the United States changed me as a person. This is about the little things in Boston that kindled the Madrasi in me.

Yellow Jersey and The Red Sox:

The year was 2015. It was one of the first warm evenings in Boston since I had landed here. I was walking around with a couple of friends, trying to explore the city. After a couple of blocks, we came across a sight that made us go watha. Thousands of people in a single street, all cheering, chanting, and inching towards something that was too small to be a stadium. Fenway Park.

I had heard a lot about Boston’s baseball team and its fans, but that was the first time I saw it for myself. The excitement in the air was electric. Excitement I knew I had felt somewhere before, but couldn’t quite place yet. Overcrowded stalls selling overpriced beer, fries, and hot dogs. Thousands of people chanting “Yankees suck”; kids in tiny Red Sox jerseys piggybacking on their dads; older adults equally excited as they cheered their way into the stadium. That’s when I truly realized what Brad Pitt meant at the end of Moneyball when he says: “It’s the Red Sox”.

Then it struck me when I had felt the same excitement before. It was the first time I saw the Chennai Super Kings theme song on TV. MS Dhoni put a bright yellow jersey on and said: “Chennai Super Kings ku whistle podu”, and a million fans were born. It has been 10 years, and the whistle has never stopped.

Comparing which is the more successful of these two teams, or which has the more loyal fans would be unwise. All I can say is that Fenway means to Boston what Chepauk means to Chennai.

Drivers we need, not the ones we deserve:

Driving in Boston can be fun. It’s not as boring as driving in other parts of this country, where you just stick to your “lane” and stop at stop signs. Not in Boston. When you’re on Boston roads, you will need to look right and left before proceeding through a green light. You will need to be Mad-Eye Moody. Constant Vigilance.

Fondly called as Massholes, Boston drivers are known for disregarding traffic signals, cutting across others, being reckless, and impatient to other drivers. Sounds more like a job description for auto drivers in Chennai, doesn’t it? Not even close.

Whoever said Boston has reckless drivers, I’m sure, will need new adjectives after an auto ride in Mount Road traffic. Like a wise man once said, “In Chennai, you either drive too fast to be a saavugraki, or too slow to be a poramboku”.

Dear Boston, you may be on the saavugraki council, but we do not grant you the rank of master.

The Mylapore connection:

Since the late 19th century, Boston has been home to Brahmins. No, not that kind.

Boston Brahmins are descendants of early British Protestants, who are often stereotyped as graduating from Harvard and living in Beacon Hill. Named after the Indian social class, the term soon became associated with aristocrats, great wealth, political influence, and deep New England connections. They are also known for their distinctive Boston Brahmin accent, just like our own Tambrahm maamas and maamis.

Brahmins hold a crucial part of Chennai’s culture as well. Madras is not Madras without its marghazhi maasam bhajans in Mada Veedhi, agraharams in Triplicane and Mylapore, and Srini mama.

I am not saying Boston Brahmins are like Tamil Brahmins (or vice versa). Beacon Hill is certainly no Agraharam. They are worlds apart. Yet a tinge of excitement crept over me when I came to know about this idiosyncratic connection, and Boston suddenly felt one step closer to home.

Heat and Mass Transfer:

Back in my undergrad days, we had a professor who taught us Heat and Mass Transfer.  He comes to every class armed with reference books and chalks in three different colors, most times sweating profusely. Wiping the sweat off, he drinks a full bottle of water and then starts the lecture. And doesn’t stop a minute before the next hour begins.

He doesn’t expect you to pay attention in his class, or take notes. He demands it. Every Friday he spends 20 minutes going through each and every student’s notes to make sure his efforts did not go in vain. I wasn’t a big fan of him back then (or even now), but he was one of the few professors who went the extra mile to make sure students understood what he taught. And I respected him for that. He admires Gary Kasparov, John McEnroe, and a professor who had published research papers at MIT. Genius me thought he was talking about Madras Institute of Technology and swelled with pride, thinking that there was world-class research done right here at Chrompet. Turns out he was talking about the other MIT.

Now I walk past the other MIT every day on my way to work. Sometimes when I look at the historic building in Cambridge, I can’t help but think about the one at Chrompet, and the professor who sweat every day to make sure we learnt Heat and Mass Transfer.

Key:

• Madras: Chennai’s old name
• Madrasi: A person from Chennai; not to be stereotyped as a South Indian
• Yankees: New York’s baseball team; rivals to The Red Sox
• Chennai Super Kings ku whistle podu: Whistle for The Chennai Super Kings
• Saavugraki: Customer of death
• Poramboku: Wasteland, implying good for nothing.
• Marghazhi maasam: December month
• Bhajan: playing (instruments mostly)
• Agraharam: Traditional house (or area) of Brahmins in South India
• Mamas and maamis: Brahmin uncles and aunts