Whenever I am in Madras, one of my favorite things to do is to pay a visit to the most amazing elephant-wrangler in town, X. He can always figure out which elephant from among his current holdings would most suit me at a given time. And even if that elephant is on an outing when I stop by, X will call him back for me. If only my doorman back in New York shared X’s devotion!
And if only I shared X’s facility for climbing up to the saddle. But once I do, well, words do not suffice to describe the sensation of touring Y (the most chic undiscovered neighborhood in Madras) on the back of your very own elephant. And while I am on this little tour nostalgique, how can I neglect to stop in for tea at Mme Z’s tea-shop. After 15 years of annual visits (I’m dating myself!) she still refuses to share with me the recipe for her masala chai, but I suspect that the shimmering gold sprinkles dusted on top of the whipped cream are the real McCoy — 24K. (The whipped cream is another of Mme Z’s unique touches!) After tea-time I always begin to feel a bit woozy from the sun and take refuge in R.G.F. Park which, incidentally, is also the best place to run into the crème de la crème of Madras’s fashion élite. Last summer, I swooned onto a park bench right next to none other than M.K.S. He thought the sun might be getting the better of me, and offered me a silk scarf from his new line to cover my pinkish face. We had the most delightful conversation about a new bauble shop he insisted I try along D. Road. I tried to return the scarf to him as I rose to leave, but he insisted I keep it as a souvenir. Indian men are so insistent, aren’t they!
Which reminds me, you readers absolutely must peek into the most precious new bauble shop I discovered on the D. Road. You can always trust its proprietress to have the most unusual assortment of adoringly charming baubles, ripe for ironic appropriation. It makes for very heavy suitcases for the train station porters to contend with upon my departure but, really, how could I leave without them?
