An artist is born
Children have their parents entwined around their little finger. The weenier the little finger the more entwined it gets. This truth hit Jayaprada in the eye, 350 kilometres from home. From Bengaluru, Jayaprada was visiting her cousin in Thiruvanmiyur, along with her family. A fortuitous chain of events having led her and her family to The Hindu CarFree Sundays on September 25, this wisdom dawned on her. From her brief account, she largely had a walkabout on mind, but her little son — Raghav — had other plans. He wanted to be parked at the painting station ad infinitum, and at age two, he has one of the weeniest little fingers in town.
Waving towards the ramp on the promenade, Jayaprada says, “When we were there, he saw the painting station (with its water colours) and demanded that we visit it. He is accustomed to painting at home.” But one that Sunday at Bessie, he came into his own.
Jayaprada giving in immediately, bystanders at the painting station were treated to a delectable display of off-the-cuff abstract painting. Every child had been presented with a sheet with the outline of a smiling flower they had to make colourful on the inside. Dabbed with black paint, Raghav’s little fingers were more active outside the outline than inside, and the result was the most original painting of the day. Of course, we are saying this, tongue wedged in cheek.
Learning without learning
Learning below the threshold of consciousness: Every Sunday morning, Bessie is replete with illustrations of this best learning practice. People playing badminton without a net between them; people taking a bead on a portable basketball goal post. These scenes play out in front of houses, on roads and in people’s driveway. Why would people head to a beach, forgoing a Sunday lie-in, and do these things they can do at home anyway? When asked this question, Rishi Pal from Rajasthan, who lives in Besant Nagar and is on CISF’s payroll, offered a one-word answer: “Atmosphere.” He explained: People engage these healthy activities with greater vigour, when they can notice dozens of other people have taken to it. This learning situation is particularly beneficial to little children. Rishi had brought his children — five-year-old Devansh and three-year-old Manav — to Bessie and he was not disappointed.
A game by the beach
Manoj Kumar and Britto are friends from college — for those insisting on precise details, AM Jain College in Meenambakkam. From there, their paths diverged and kept diverging. Their pincodes are also spaced apart, not hugely but sufficiently enough — 600017 and 600034 — to make in-person howdys a rare occurrence. However, every Sunday, they meet up, their friendship glued together by a shared love for gastronomic adventures. Ever since The Hindu Car-Free Sundays hit Elliot’s Beach Road, the foodies have discovered an additional glue to firm up their camaraderie — Carrom by the beach. Manoj Kumar notes, “Would we have imagined that we would be playing carrom in a setting like this — by the beach, in the lap of nature? We have played carrom at home, and at office among colleagues, but this experience is incomparable.”
