I love Madras more than Chennai.

For many people, it may just be a name change.
But for me, Madras was not just a city.
Madras was a feeling.

The Madras I knew was simple, small, and full of memories.

Watching Jackie Chan movies at Alankar Theatre felt like a festival. The excitement of sitting in the theatre, waiting for the action scenes, cheering with strangers — those moments were pure joy.

Then there was Anand Theatre and Little Anand Theatre.
Simple theatres, but they carried big memories.

In Mylapore, I remember going to Shanthi Sagar just for chaat. It was never about luxury. It was about taste, laughter, and friendship.

Near Alankar Theatre, there was a small lassi shop near Bharat Petroleum.
Nothing fancy. But that one glass of lassi after a movie felt like the perfect ending.

Even food had its own emotion.

At Buhari Hotel, the bun butter jam was always fresh.
Prepared right there and served warm.
That taste still lives somewhere in memory.

And then there were the beaches.

Just going to Marina Beach or Besant Nagar Beach was enough to reset life. No plans. No pressure. Just the sound of waves and the wind.

Sometimes we would end the evening with bhel puri at the old Nic Nac shop in T. Nagar, right next to Nalli Kuppusamy Chetty.

Those small things made the city feel like home.

Back then, Madras felt like a city you could understand.
I knew almost every area name.

Today, Chennai has grown so much that sometimes I hear area names I have never even heard before. Some names sound similar, some confuse me.

Sometimes when someone asks me about an area and I say I don’t know, they jokingly ask,

“Are you really from this city?”

I smile. But inside, it hurts a little.

Because I am from this city.

But I am from Madras.

And the Madras I knew —
the theatres, the bun butter jam, the beaches, the small streets —
is slowly disappearing.

The world may call it Chennai now.

But in my heart,
it will always be Madras.