When Everything Looks Yellow

I will always associate the colour yellow with Chennai.

Yellow for the piss that stains every wall in the city, whether they're by main roads or railway stations.
Yellow for overpriced, recklessly driven auto rickshaws that pursue you relentlessly and fleece you mercilessly.
Yellow for the graduation gown of the Madras University that contrasted horribly with everyone's brown skin.
Yellow for the turmeric smeared on the faces of Tamilian women first thing in the morning in their daily attempt at fairness. Hell, even the fair people put it on. Or maybe that's how they got fair? Wishful thinking.
Yellow are the shirts that clad every Rajnikanth/superstar wannabe.
Yellow for the sun that glows hotly over the place, beating down on everyone during the primary seasons of the year: hot summer, hotter summer and hottest summer.
Yellow for the sambar that is served with everything, whether it's rice, idly, dosa or water (water with a hint of sambar is a major breakfast accompaniment in my office canteen).

If yellow was a disease, it's name would be Chennai (don't remind me of yellow fever, just read). Spread through mere inhalation and suffered for the pure torture of humanity.