There's something about Chennai. Life here is on the slow track. In spite of the Information Technology boom and the mushrooming of pubs and nightclubs, it's the image of the fisherman hauling in his catch from the sea that sticks in the mind's eye. Chennai is a city of gracious homes, many of them fast paving the way for smart new apartment blocks, but none so tall, yet, as to cut off a view of the sky from the ground. Thatch-leaf huts still abound. You can still see a canopy of green from the top of a hotel, but for how long is anybody's guess.

Coconut sellers sell tender green fruit on the streets and women sit stringing fragrant Jasmine. Knife-sharpeners from Arakkonam, a two-hour train journey away, visit different parts of the city on different days of the week, and cobblers are ever-willing to mend your slippers.

And as the old and the new mingle, there's something in Chennai for everybody – you can awaken to a new day with mellifluous chanting by the immortal MS Subbulakshmi, or the relentless banter of FM radio. It's your choice.