Walking to the beach

The walk to the beach is eventful. I pass revered cows wearing garlands and bells, groups of gossiping walkers (an ocassional lonesome walker mutters mantras and walks ahead with undisturbed discipline), and busy bikers. A few smiles of recognition come my way, as I steer away from puddles of urine along the sides of a wall. I also make sure I don't step onto freshly drawn kollams in front of homes. I change the music on my walkman to one with a beat, and walk ahead briskly.
To get to the beach, I have to walk past the outskirts of a slum. Kids in various states of undress, stand around brushing their teeth, while their mothers collect water from a pump. An old man and his wife are putting up a teeny stall of drumsticks. Groups of men gather in front of a busy tea stall, and their chatter is drowned by the deafening music from a nearby temple. Even I have to stop my music as I hurry past. The temple music doesn't go too well with Dido. Competing with this temple on Sundays, is a church that plays loud devotional music. Beyond the temple, is a small time gym that is luring customers with a big discount. It's here that I turn to a residential area.
I see vendors making their rounds from building to building. Drivers wash cars, ocassionally stopping to chat with maids drawing kollams outside impressive gates. Old men and women walk toward the end of the road wearing shoes, carrying little purses to buy flowers from an old lady at the end of the road. Women stand arguing with vegetable vendors over skyrocketting prices. As I walk by, I smell freshly brewed coffee, and hear the suprabatham from one of the balconies. People sit around in balconies reading the newspaper. Outside I see sleepy kids in uniforms, waiting for their buses. I don't remember if I went to school that early.
As I get close to the Velankanni church, I see more tea shops brimming with activity. Hawkers are displaying cheap toys and other knick knacks on sheets. I think to myself that if Adiv was around, he'd beg for an auto or pistol. A resident begger is lying on a mat, by the side of a popular restaurant, while his overweight wife ambles across the street to buy them tea that she brings back in a discarded bisleri bottle.
At the beach, I see groups of men and women going their walks. I enjoy the fresh breeze that hits my face for a few moments. The french bakery by the beach is closed. The skating rink lies vacant. A fancy gym has a steady stream of people walking in and out. The tired few who are done with their workout, walk toward the paper and magazine stall. Another small group gathers in front of the stall, discussing an ongoing political story. I catch a glimpse of the headlines, and walk past them. I walk past office goers waiting patiently for their vans and cars. The flower stall I'd passed earlier is now filled with customers. Flowers are bought for puja, and strings of jasmine for the women in the house. I pass dogs engaged in a playful roll in the sand.
By now the traffic has gradually increased. Yellow school buses are on the move, and vans bring in fresh vegetables to stores. I take the familiar route again, watching for traffic, and covering my nose and mouth when crossing overflowing bins that are just being cleared. I take the same short cut back home. I'm tired, but satisfied. I check my phone for missed calls and messages, switch off my walkman, and walk in. As I walk in, I see the other residents of the building return from the walks. They prefer the serene, uneventful confines of a popular dance and music school. Despite the traffic, and the stinky bins, I prefer my route; one that's more fun, more eventful and less boring.