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The only problem with buying flowers here is making a decision!

I arrived in Chennai exhausted. After a week of having slept only a few hours every night, and then attending my cousin's marathon marriage ceremony, I boarded a plane in New Delhi that put me in Chennai at ten at night. Grateful at the opportunity of uninterrupted sleep, I vowed to have it for at least ten hours and the next morning sounds of a very busy city woke me up. In this place the sun combined with ocean breezes to create a slightly humid and warm climate and the cold chill of Delhi mornings did not exist here. As I began exploring this part of India, I recalled my Punjabi family had often told me before I left that life in dhukshin baharat, or South India, was simply different than up north. One of the first differences I noticed in Chennai has to do with clothes and jewelry; maybe this is partly because of my own fascination with these very things.

In New Delhi, most women wear salwaar kameez. Many women also wear saris, but by and large the Indian Suit dominates. However, in Chennai as I made my way around in a diesel fume spewing auto rickshaw, I saw most women only wearing saris of every type, while many men opt for traditional dhotis instead of pants.

Every variety of sari spills out of the merchant's store waiting to catch wandering eyes in the baazar. -- >

I headed to T.Nagar, one of the shopping hearts of Chennai to have a look at what kinds of things people were setting their sights on. On these streets I found many sari and jewelry shops. Two sari shops were four stories high, yet they were full of people. Men at the counters struggled to keep up with the women pointing and yelling to see more colors, different prints. Arranged by blend, the men at the synthetic counter relaxed contentedly as they watched their neighbor struggle to pull down more and more colors of silk-cotton saris. Piles of rejected fabrics lay to the side as others expertly refolded them neatly, only to be returned to the counter at the point of a long manicured finger from across the way.

Since December is an especially auspicious month for marriages and other religions events, new saris are also especially in demand during this time of year, and this became evident as I navigated my way through the thick crowd in the shop. Women sat on the marble staircase taking a break, rejuvenating themselves with a snack packed from home, as men refilled glass after glass of water at the store's water fountain, perhaps discussing the impact the day's purchases would have on their wallets. Kids ran from one another as their mothers' attention was fixed on important matters of texture and print. I realized that as busy and chaotic as it can be, sari shopping is also a very enjoyable and social part of people's lives here.

In addition, the experience of sari shopping is distinctively Indian. Though Indians abroad have opened shops wherever they go, sari shopping here is another story. Saris spill out of almost every store and the selling philosophy reflects an Indian business sense: the shopper is catered to and each client has her own individualized, custom shopping experience. The customer enters, is asked what she wants, and is shown everything she may even be peripherally interested in. Her interests are guessed at and style ascertained as the observant salesman struggles to keep her attention, triumphing when her eyes stop their roaming search and settle on what she has come for.

< -- Pleated saris hang from walls, silently convincing shoppers to stop for a minute.

I had heard that like up North, South Indians passion for gold ran high here as well. Since I am always looking out for jewelry designs, I went out in search for s ome and found that even gold shops have their own environment. Cochin boasts some of the most glamorous jewelry shops. Their exteriors are often sleek and covered with mirrored glass. An army of security guards graciously opens the door for customers while simultaneously watching for suspicious behavior-this one building holding tons of gold is a bank in itself. Neon lights announce the shop's name in a rainbow of dancing light across the top of the four or five story building making these structures as elaborate as any five-star hotel in the city. From outside, the eyes of passers-by are accosted with rows and rows of twenty-two carat gold shimmering in light. Inside, a design to satisfy everyone's taste exists so that there is no excuse not to choose a bangle, a pair of earrings, or even chain for the waist. Though the product offered is much more expensive than a sari, this doesn't mean that there is any less of a crowd here. Buying jewelry is a serious undertaking, and the bargaining is done with both animation and finesse.

One gold shop I visited in Trinulveli, Tamil Nadu was at the height of activity. Despite the apparent crowded chaos, I was immediately greeted at the door by a smartly dressed man who whisked me back to the section I came to see and assigned me to a salesman. We passed through a red velvet covered hallway with several plush chairs upon which customers sat, sipping complimentary coffee or Fanta out of petite plastic cups. A salesman and his customer walked past us; the customer had already picked out a necklace, which was resting in a turquoise plastic bowl in the hands of the salesman. They headed for the stairs to the next floor of shining metal and gems.

Every culture has its addiction, and here one can see it on the face of a customer peering down at the glass case in front of her, absorbed, absolutely lost in the maze of a design that the jewelry piece personally represents to her. Only she can see into that small world with which the piece provides her, and it is the salesman's duty to perpetuate the forms of her imagination into reality. Almost every married woman has at least one set of jewelry, and many have several-she would be bare stepping out of the house without ornamentation.

Thousands of blossoms wait to be strung and to be tied in someone's hair. -- >

On the streets outside the glittering sari stores and towering jewelry showrooms, exists the city's own chaos, as always. But even here on every corner more enticing ornamentation is offered to women: flowers. At frequent intervals along any sidewalk, men and women with wooden carts or under makeshift shelters are busily stringing together flower petals for passersby to stop and place in their hair. These chains can be a few inches long, but many are a couple of feet long so that women can walk with their dark think braids flanked by the distinctive sweet smells. These flowers are a distinctive white, orange, or purple sometimes interspersed with a bright marigold, though sometimes just one rose sits balanced in a braid. A glance at a crowd will reveal many strands of fresh flowers, and others may even be two to three days old, which the woman has yet to give up on. Regardless of the vitality of the flower chain, it is frequently a part of her dress and further illustrates her liking for very beautiful things.

Even if she cannot think of buying gold earrings, and her sari has faded under the unrelenting sun of the south, a woman here can always count on the fragrance and freshness of flower petals to serve as jewelry for the silken folds of her hair. I soon found though that money can buy the showiest gold jewelry, most prized silken saris, and freshest flowers, the most beautiful ornamentation Indian women possess is, of course, grace.

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