“My palms feel sticky and I know… Madras has arrived.”

I grew up in Coimbatore and like most of us from there, I complained about Chennai’s heat. That changed because of one auto anna.

One May afternoon, a Rajinikanth fan picked me up in his three wheeler. I was sweating endlessly. He noticed and asked, “Jillunu oru juice saapuduvoma?” In a city where everyone is rushing, he chose to pause with a stranger. That warmth stayed with me. Maybe that is why Chennai feels hot. It carries the warmth of its people.

I am a Creative Director in advertising. A CSK shoot years ago changed my life. The set was chaotic until Thala walked in. The energy shifted. Not because of noise, but because of presence. I was not starstruck. I was curious. Why was the camera handheld when it could have been a dolly shot? That moment made me realise I did not just want to observe stories. I wanted to tell them. I course corrected my career that day.

The biggest shift, however, was personal.

One morning I got a call that my father had suffered a cardiac arrest. My first instinct was to finish an upcoming shoot before flying home. It took friends in Chennai to shake sense into me. I took the next flight. Dad recovered. But I realised I had misplaced my priorities.

Ambition is important. But not at the cost of the people who matter most.

A few months later, I chose to go independent and move back to Coimbatore. I wanted the freedom to be around family. Tomorrow is not guaranteed.

Still, Madras stays with me.

The stretch into Besant Nagar through the Theosophical Society road. The slight coolness in the air. Temple bells. Filter coffee. Fresh chutney. Sticky palms and a sense of arrival.

People.
Food.
Culture.

Madras does not shout about itself. It simply holds you. And once it does, it never really lets go.”