Written by There’s a moment in long-term travel when the unfamiliar begins to feel strangely routine. Near the Meenakshi Temple, this shift happens quietly. What starts as a place you visit becomes a place you move through—almost like a neighborhood you’ve known for years.
Early mornings here have their own rhythm. Shopkeepers lift their shutters with that half-asleep determination, the aroma of fresh jasmine mixes with the smell of brewing tea, and pilgrims drift toward the temple with an energy that’s both calm and purposeful. After a few days, these sights no longer feel like scenes from a trip; they feel like pieces of a daily pattern.
You start noticing small things: the same vendor arranging bangles in the same careful order, the same elderly couple taking slow steps around the temple’s outer corridors, the same soft echo of chants that seem to rise with the light.
Even the bustling crowds, which first felt overwhelming, become part of a steady background hum—predictable, almost comforting. Routine doesn’t make the place less special; it just means you’ve begun to settle into its pace.
When travel becomes routine here, it’s not a loss of wonder. It’s simply learning to breathe in sync with the city.
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