“Stop crying,” I repeat to myself silently. The toddler in front of me is restless; his mother, angry. It’s been an hour, and the queue for boating at the newly-opened Chetpet eco-park has only moved inches. The 4 p.m. sun shimmers elegantly on the 16-acre lake, but on us, it stings. Just when the kid starts another bout of bawling, a man from behind asks, “Are you single?” Confused, and a little shocked, I turn sharply, only to see him pointing at the staff in blue uniforms. They are calling out for people to fill a single seat in one of the boats. I thank the stranger, and cut the long line of around 50 people, including school kids and senior citizens, to experience the boat ride — the first ever in the heart of the city.
Even as they tighten the orange lifejacket on me, I hear a few in the line complain about the long wait, which, for some, has crossed an hour. Meanwhile, a man in his 50s, who has just finished a ride, taps on his wristwatch and tells the organisers gruffly that he just got 12 minutes on the boat, when the ticket reads Rs. 50 for 30 minutes for an adult and Rs. 25 for children.
The entry fee to the park itself is Rs. 25 for adults and Rs. 10 for children. A valid complaint; but it gets swept aside. “What can we do sir? Look at the crowd. We have to close by 6 p.m.,” explains a staff, and pulls a freshly emptied boat close to the deck for the rest of us to get in.
The boathouse has a total of 10 boats: five each of pedal and rowing types. I’m in a roofed four-seater pedal boat, and one seat is occupied by a muscular professional pedaller.
A mother-son duo from Mylapore fills the other two seats. As the boat moves away from the jetty and the angry voices grow dim, we hear a low grunt. Everybody awkwardly looks at each other, except for the pedaller who points at the source: it’s a Little Cormorant ( neer kaaka in Tamil), a sleek sea bird with matte-black feathers. A few feet away, a paddling of ducks soaks up the sun. On the bank sits a murder of crows. Above that, on the seats alongside the 1.5 kilometre-long walking track (which is open to the public from 4.30 a.m.), sit young couples and selfie-addicts.
The lake, which is around 18 feet deep, is home to a variety of fish like rohu, cutla and pangasius. They are fed and fished for by professional anglers, on the other side of the lake. Visitors are also allowed to use the equipment — worth over Rs. 30,000 — and take a sack-full of the fish home at Rs. 300 per kilogram, all under the strict supervision of the anglers. Meanwhile, those who are hungry can stop at a small cake shop adjacent to a children’s play area; all this is within the park, and maintained by the Fisheries Department.
Closer to the jetty now, we see the next excited bunch in orange jackets. Ours are removed. The queue has shortened by another inch or so. As I leave, I hear the staff shout: “Any singles?”
