Chennai is changing. Every year, it becomes a little faster, a little shinier. New cafes bloom on old streets. Skywalks stretch over once-familiar crossings. Malls replace playgrounds. Apartments rise where gardens once stood.
But in the middle of all that rush, some places hold still. Like old friends, they stay just as we remember them. Or maybe it’s us who return, searching for the smells, the sounds, the simple joys we once knew. This blog is a walk through those places—a gentle reminder of what Chennai used to be, and what it still is for those who carry it in their hearts.
Let’s take that walk together.
Marina Beach: Where Childhood Was Sandy and Salty
Every Chennaite has a Marina memory.
Maybe it was the first place you saw the sea, with your tiny feet sinking into wet sand. Maybe it was where your father held your hand tighter as the waves came rushing in. Or maybe it was a school trip—packed idlis, sunhats, and teachers yelling, “Don’t go too far!”
The bajjis were always hot, the water was always brown, and the ice cream man always came at the right time.
Marina wasn’t just a beach. It was a Sunday tradition, a place where families found silence and noise, all at once.
Spencer Plaza: Before the Malls Took Over
Today’s kids have Express Avenue. We had Spencer Plaza.
That red building on Mount Road was magic. The cool air as you walked in. The slightly mysterious escalators. The Archies store filled with birthday cards and keychains. And Landmark, where many of us fell in love—with books, with music, with the idea of reading.
You didn’t always buy something. But walking through Spencer felt like entering another world. If you got lost from your parents, there was always a friendly aunty to guide you back.
It was a place where every corridor held a story.
Vandalur Zoo: Where All Picnics Ended in Sticky Fingers
If you studied in Chennai, chances are your school took you to Vandalur Zoo.
You wore a cap too big for your head, carried a water bottle on a rope, and walked what felt like a thousand kilometers. You spotted deer, lions, and if you were lucky, the elusive white tiger.
The train ride was everyone’s favorite. The monkeys were cheeky. And by lunch, your tamarind rice was warm and slightly mashed—but still perfect.
Even today, when you pass by the zoo, don’t you smile?
Besant Nagar Beach: Teenager’s Paradise
As kids, we had Marina. As teenagers, we found Bessie.
You didn’t need a reason to go—just a little time and a lot of things to say. You sat on the steps and watched the sun melt into the sea. You ate corn, drank lime soda, and maybe, held someone’s hand for the first time.
Bessie was where you gossiped about school, made promises, fought, made up. It was the setting for friendship, heartbreak, poetry, and sometimes, just silence.
You didn’t know it then, but you were building memories.
Ratna Café, Triplicane: Where the Sambar Poured Like a Waterfall
Some smells never leave you. Ratna Café’s sambar is one of them.
Hot, tangy, and served in silver tumblers, it soaked your idli till it almost disappeared. And you loved it.
This was the place where Appa read The Hindu, where thatha ordered the same thing every time, and where waiters knew what you wanted before you said it.
Families came here after weddings. Friends came here after cricket. The sambar, somehow, tasted the same across decades.
Comfort food. Comfort memories.
Children’s Park, Guindy: A Jungle of Laughter
Before video games and indoor play zones, there was Children’s Park.
Slides that felt tall, swings that creaked just right, and a dusty smell that only childhood knows. You counted monkeys. You climbed jungle gyms. You asked for balloons that always flew away too fast.
It was noisy, crowded, and sometimes chaotic. But you went home happy, sweaty, and slightly sunburnt.
It was the best kind of exhaustion.
Higginbothams, Mount Road: The Smell of Books and Rain
That white building with old windows—Higginbothams is a quiet kind of nostalgia.
You climbed the wooden stairs slowly. Your fingers ran over smooth book covers and dusty titles. It smelled like ink and monsoon.
You didn’t always buy. But just being there, between bookshelves, made you feel older. Wiser.
It wasn’t just a store. It was where dreams were shelved.
Drive-In Woodlands: Cinema Under the Stars
It’s gone now. But for those who knew it, Drive-In Woodlands will never be forgotten.
Watching a movie from your car, eating dosas off a tray, honking when something funny happened—it was magic.
Children sat in pajamas. Parents leaned back. Waiters moved like shadows in the night.
It was more than a theatre. It was an experience.
And every time someone says “those days,” this place is what they mean.
Anna Tower Park / Semmozhi Poonga: A Bit of Calm in a Busy City
Not all nostalgia is old. Some of it is recent.
Anna Tower Park gave us those slow evening walks, where grandparents talked and children ran in circles. Semmozhi Poonga brought a little beauty back into the city—with its trees, benches, and butterflies.
These places may not be ancient. But they already carry memories. Of falling in love. Of eating packed chapatis. Of reading in the shade.
Of pausing.
Conclusion: Chennai Lives in Us
Chennai is not just buildings and buses. It’s moments. It’s rituals. It’s the way your heart lifts when you smell jasmine or hear temple bells at 6 AM.
These spots—whether they still exist or not—hold something precious. They remind us of who we were. Of who we still are.
If you’ve smiled, sighed, or time-travelled while reading this, maybe you’ve felt it too.
💬 Over to You!
Did this blog take you back in time?
Which of these places lives in your memory?
Or is there another corner of Chennai that’s forever yours?
👉 Leave a comment below, and tell me what Chennai means to you.
❤️ Like, share, and send this to that friend who went to Spencer with you.
Let’s remember together.
