All Elliot’s a stage...
The Vettis and Bandhas mere players
They all have hangouts which they call their own
In the beach consisting seven stretches

First comes the legendary broken bridge,
Unknown to the naive and innocent.
Only those brave at heart or crude as cavemen
Enter this realm of illicit ecstasy

Forward to the forbidden strips
If you stray here, go with finger on lips
Not a place for a man with a car
Oorur and Olcott, forever at war

After this comes no man’s land,
Walk not here with slippers in hand.
Strewn with dirt and glass and spike,
Territory of cows and rabid alike.

Now to the area favoured by all;
Gym, cafes, and our own short wall.
This is the place where figures be
Dressed in their Sunday best for the jobless to see.

Close is the stretch with cleaner sand
Where the young play, old walk hand in hand
Shoreward here couples show off their youth,
Not caring at all that it seems uncouth.

Moving on you shall see a half buried road
Serves its purpose as a cricketer’s abode
Right in the midst is the monument of piss
The place where you get a fifty rupee kiss.

Last is the place where food’s aplenty
Lots of MNCs and our own kaiyanthi
All working hard to keep you full
This place has its very own pull

Thus ends this eventful besantful history
All play and no work, naturally no dull boys
Holding memories of friends, adventure and mid afternoon swims
Life has moved us on, sans bessi, sans Cozee, sans everything

Anirudh Ramachandran