Chennai "express" ions

Expressions finally found words after so many months of brooding.
The trigger is, yes; Chennai.
I reached Chennai with little gloom in my heart and heavy steps. And definitely, with no hopes to see my mirthful self again.
But slowly things changed dramatically for good.
The smell of moisture-laden air and the remotely stewing fish was a welcome change. The streets were wet and the puddles showed the reflection of the sun clouded with uncertainty.
I walked through the narrow lanes of Naganallur. The worship of Anjaneya was in full swing. I took a deep breath and filled my lungs with the smell of burnt butter and flowers. The houses along the way looked down upon me, but with a warm gesture.
I climbed onto a bus full of smells again. Fish, flowers, people, perfumes, papers, fruits... All competed to win my attention through smells. I stood in an approximate foot by foot space for the two hours of the journey.
But all was worth it, when i saw the clear blue sky stretched across above my head as i walked into the made of boulders. The sandstone blocks cut away years ago were waiting to tell their stories...
The Pallava land indeed seemed embellished with temples and sculptures. I hung around for very long, looking at each dressed stone,  imagining the barely dressed bodies which carved them. It pinched me to see old people standing in scorching sun pleasing tourists to hire them as the guides... Even at the price of a lemon juice!
I sack onto a stone bench. I was drifting into thoughts of how life should be. Pallava sculptures brought me back I to show how it really is... The softness of the figures is evident only after the mass of hard Rock around has been chiseled away. I kept thinking that the hard ness never really wears off until the last breath, for everyday is like a war.
The stillness of the waters in the lake eased me. I looked at the reflection of the shore temple as i sat besides it. The beauty was not just the stone carving, but the setting as well. The rathas were magnificant with their embellishments and seemed to make a mark in the history of temples in a true sense.
The sculptures were real life. As of Durga was attacking Mahisha just then and there. I could not help but feel moved. I thought of myself as a witness to a theater performance of the epic stories. It was so alive; that i was short of narrating the stories to the fellow tourists... Well i actually did; for some.
I was thinking over and over the dexterity of sculptors who had depicted the lifesize lions and elephants with the minutest details... I was see struck the whole day ahead.
I dipped my feet into the sea and came home. The tang of the raw mango, freshness of the lemonade still linger. And the frozen life in stone which made my dumbstruck self emote again is chiseled in my mind permanently.
People make stones speak with their sculpture; the stones made me speak today with their mute existence and the stories they hold, waiting to be explored.