La Vie En Pondicherry

I made my way to the French Quarter with my trusty hat braving the salty heat. The French colony in Pondicherry, spans over a few streets with pastel walls, bougainvillea spilling over gigantic doors, and mustard pillars identical to a vintage movie set. Remnants of French India are strong, especially when the locals recite the street names with impeccable French pronunciation. The police add a cinematic touch, with their berry red French Kepis (hats); they rumble past on their motorcycles eyeing me suspiciously as I take pictures.

I started my walk from the Sri Aurobindo Ashram which should be synonymous with a tropical paradise. The simple entrance is preparing you for a spectacular botanical display where cactus bushes, reeds, sunflowers, palms and delicate petunias are adorning the pathway to the tomb or Samadhi of Sri Aurbindo and the Mother. You sit in silence as a mark of respect, but are still taken away with the breath taking views. Tearing myself away, I walk towards the South Boulevard passing idyllic streets named ‘Rue Sufferen’ And 'La Bourdonnais Street'.

Wondering where to park my appetite, I walked around the blocks twice – coming across tiny establishments and flamboyant ones. The one that sparked my curiosity was The Hotel L’Orient, a grand antique hotel, giving off a smug air of being there too long to be ruffled by the latest candy coloured addresses. The inner courtyard restaurant beckoned, the cheerful staff seat me and read out the specials. I look at the manager and said, just recommend the best. A glass of cool chenin blanc paired with Ginger Lime prawns and a masala relish is brought to my table. The delicate ginger and lime tang paired with spice, is just what I need. Enjoying the view of the garden courtyard, I surrender to my meal. I am snapped out of my trance, when the chef asks what he can get me for dessert. Again, I just said surprise me and that he did. Flambé pineapple, served with home-churned vanilla ice cream, a dish that would not have scored a 10 for presentation, but really made up for it in taste.

The courtyard garden

The local Tamilians and French, mesh seamlessly with the French buildings unaware how their daily routines showcase a stark contrast of cultures. I especially notice, a trend of feisty women selling coconuts and bags, while narrating to me how all their children are in school. Glowing with pride, they shared how their families pitched in for them to have a career and to help raise money for education. Indeed the markings of a forward society is when men and women empower each other, and that struck a chord within me. In fact, I was amused to find out that everyday mothers take time out from their chores make it a point to feed their children lunch. The locals truly live in their own little bubble.

The next day, I make breakfast plans at Café Des Arts – or more like a secret garden. You can’t miss it with it’s quirky illustrations. A cafe set in a villa, the menu is simple but the croissants are absolute heaven - soft flakes of buttery goodness. Order the crepes too – the banana cinnamon would be my selection.

Do mustard coloured walls make Pondicherry French? Or do the locals make Pondicherry Indian? Leave your identity of India and France behind, it’s time to soak in a completely new culture.

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