Temple of the tortoise

The shrine of Lord Ayyappa at Sabarimala, in Kerala's Pathanamthitta district, has had its share of misfortunes. One such was a deliberate act of desecration and arson in 1950, that left the stone idol severely damaged. A new panchaloha idol was wrought, and before its consecration, it was taken to several parts of the country. During its perambulations, the idol was brought to this temple on Armenian Street - from where, for one reason or another, it could not be taken out for three days. To recall this incident, a shrine to Ayyappa was added within this temple complex, which has Lord Siva as the main deity. 

The temple - the Kachhaleeswarar temple - was constructed in the 1720s, funded by the dubash Kalavai Chetty, who was a devotee of Siva in the form of Kachhabeswarar, the one worshipped by a tortoise. According to mythology, the tortoise was Lord Vishnu, who had assumed that form during the churning of the ocean of milk. The tortoise also forms one of Siva's five seats in this temple; on account of having these five seats, the deity is also referred to as Pancha Vaahana Sivan. 

In ancient times, there was a federation of castes based on their 'handedness'; those engaged in agriculture and related fields were referred to as the 'right-hand castes', while the metal workers and weavers formed the numerically lesser 'left-hand castes'. These divisions continued into the early 20th century; but in Kalavai Chetty's time, it was common for Madras to be wracked by clashes between these castes. And Kalavai Chetty was himself accused of engineering these clashes; but he is today remembered for this temple, rather than for the divisions he attempted!

Nothing on the right is left

Moving from the white-on-blue lettering that seems to have been the favourite of signboard makers over a couple of centuries into this rather jazzy red-on-yellow scheme must have been the decision of a very brave man. Or someone so secure in the permanency of the business to not bother with such trivialities as signboard colours. Such a signboard, made around 50 years ago - that's a guess, and yours might be better than mine - still advertises the supplies provided by the Office Equipment Company, of Armenian Street, Madras.

Although I have not myself seen the offices of this company, I am fairly sure it continues to exist. It must be somewhere upstairs in one of those buildings on Armenian Street, trying to stay relevant for the office supplies and 'requisites' of the day. 

Considering that no one below the age of 40 has conceivably never seen a cyclostyle machine, it would be fair to say that as a business, nothing on the right of this sign is left, these days!

Deceptive

The advertisement bill catches the eye first. A patch of fluorescent colour on a drab wall in Errabalu Chetty Street, just where it meets Armenian Street. The bill advertises many things, each of which seem to mock the edifice it is pasted on. 

The locked door was certainly new, once. It may well have led into a 3-bedroom house. It is not difficult to imagine a 3-bedroom house with a balcony. There are several early 20th century houses nearby, with balconies overlooking the street. This could have been just one other such.

But really, the brick wall behind the door and the window pane makes a mockery of the door itself. And a ghastly breach of security, one panel of the door has been broken up, providing easy access to the brick wall behind!

Old building

With the nationalization of the life insurance business, the LIC of India became a monopoly. With that also came the assets of several of the life insurance companies that were doing business in India - almost 250 of them. 

Many of those companies had long histories. Among the oldest was the Oriental Life Insurance Company of Calcutta, which had been started in Calcutta in 1818. With its nationalisation, their buildings were also taken over by the LIC. That's how this lovely building, at the corner of Armenian Street and Errabalu Chetty Street came to have that sign in front, looking quite out of place with the rest of the facade. 

It is often held up as an example of Art Deco in Madras; of course it is from that period, the 1920s, but somehow I think the architect / builder slipped in some Jaipuri-Jaina touches as well. The jalli of the uppermost balcony is, in my mind a giveaway - what do you think?

Ispahani complex

Uh-oh! Were you looking for something about the Ispahani Centre in Nungambakkam? That's a johnny-come-latey, having been around only for about ten years or so. This building, in Begum Ispahani's name, has been around for a whole lot longer. 

The name itself is supposedly Persian in origin. Given where this is located, it is more likely that this branch of Ispahanis merely passed through Iran on their way to Madras from Armenia a couple of centuries ago!

Cathedral of Madras

That is what it was called, back in the day when Madras was a separate diocese from that of Mylapore. The San Thome basilica was the Cathedral of Mylapore; with the amalgamation of the Archdiocese of Madras and the Dicoese of Mylapore in November 1952, the San Thome basilica became the Cathedral of Madras-Mylapore and St. Mary's Cathedral, on Armenian Street, had to be content with the status of a co-cathedral.

The Cathedral gates have the figure 1642 inscribed on them. While it is likely that the church may have been functioning here from that date, it is also argued that the year refers to the setting up of a cemetery here, rather than a church. What seems to be well accepted is that the church was set up by Fr Ephraim de Nevers, a Capuchin. Fr de Nevers' duties were in Fort St George and he was to keep St. Mary's Church there in order. The government permitted Fr. de Nevers to open his second church in 1658, but it took a little longer for the church itself to take shape. 

Whatever be its exact date of origin, it seems to have been well cared for; although missing the pomp and gaiety of a San Thome Church, it is still grand enough to be a commanding presence!

Silhouettes and reflections

You know it is not a dressing room, that it is not even a room at all. It is not even inside a house. But somehow, the air of domesticity is apparent on this mirror. Is it the Mickey Mouse sticker? The three toothbrushes jammed on top of the mirror? Those daubs of pink? 

Chennai has anywhere from 10,000 to 15,000 homeless people. Those are the official numbers, but it is quite likely that the family using this dressing room would not have been included in that count. Walking around George Town, you see them on every street; for all appearances, there are even extended families staying together, occupying their corner of the world, having learnt to shut out the traffic and gawkers around. The Corporation of Chennai has recently announced that it has opened 8 more night shelters for the city's homeless, taking the total to 23; that's just over one-third of the 66 that Chennai requires, according to the Supreme Court Expert Committee's recommendation earlier this year.

Today's theme - for the City Daily Photo community - is 'silhouette'. The mirror does reflect, but silhouette? Well, the word originated from the actions of Étienne de Silhouette, who, as Finance Minister of France sometime in the 1750s, imposed severe austerity on the French, to the extent that his name came to be applied to the 'shadow pictures' that were far cheaper than portraits. Silhouette was also said to have proposed taxing external signs of wealth such as ornate doors and windows..... well, the family here on the corner of Armenian Street and Errabalu Chetty Street need not fear good old Étienne - they are shadows themselves!

If you would like to check out other interpretations of the 'Silhouette' theme, click here!

Plains tea

Sitting in the Nilgiris, surrounded by a few tea plantations, it is tempting to write about how those bushes have changed the landscape of these hills. But somehow, tea plantations seem to be less of a problem in Ooty than those in Idukki, further southwest, in the neighbouring state of Kerala.

In the thick of those problems are the lands of the Kannan Devan Hills Plantations Company (KDHPC), over a thousand acres of which are to be taken over by the Kerala state government. That company was formed in 2005 when Tata Tea transferred / sold 25 of its estates in those hills to the employees and ex-employees of those estates, handing over roughly 57,000 acres in the process. But the state government claims those lands were never Tata Tea's to give away; the threat of an ordinance a few days ago is the latest in the ongoing tussle.

Looks like this board of M.S.Vel, on Armenian Street, identifying them as the agents for Kannan Devan tea will soon become redundant!

Wraparound

Last month, there was a minor furore when the Emirate of Sharjah banned lungis in public places. The lungi is a comfortable garment, one that is still worn daily by millions, even though its popularity has fallen a bit in recent times. In its heydey, the lungi was not mere casual, lolling-around-the-house-wear. Though in the land of its birth, the lungi remained at the bottom of the sartorial scale, it was a prized posession in the countries it was exported to. With its strong, check-patterns in bold colours, it provided that extra spiff to the starched white shirts worn over it. Malaya, Ceylon, Siam - places where the lungi morphed into the sarong, were countries that the garment was introduced by the Dutch or the Portugese.

Many of these countries referred to the lungi as 'Palayakat'. One school of thought is that the word is a corruption of Pazhaverkadu (now called Pulicat), north of Chennai, where the Dutch had their fortress before the British presence on the Coromandel coast. These simple rectangles of cloth were probably the central players of a brand-building (okay, category-building) exercise a couple of centuries ago. The British varied the dimensions of these rectangles, or converted them into running lengths, and popularised them as 'Madras Checks' in its colonies, including the ones in America. Palayakat is a forgotten term now - certainly in Chennai, where lungi still holds sway, but companies behind the popular old brands still use the term: like Sangu-mark lungi-gal, which is a brand of The Madras Palayakat Company.

There could be another story of origin for the word, however. It could have originated from 'palasar-e-kattu', 'palasar' being the manner of tying the veshti, urging the users of the humble lungi to wear it like its more formal counterpart!

Lone star

Just across the Binny headquarters on Erabalu Chetty Street is this "Star House", the Zonal Office of the Bank of India. The current holder of that title is the fourth to be so named - the other three of course died out long before this one was started.

The star logo of the bank was redesigned in 2006 to mark the centenary year of the bank. And thanks to that, this building has a crown that can be seen from quite a distance away!

Knockdown Hall

After having founded the Young Men's Indian Association (YMIA) in 1914, Annie Besant decided that the Association needed a home in Madras. The YMIA was intended to shape youth with 'a strong body, an informed mind and a noble character' so that they could take on the task of becoming public leaders. It was therefore critical that the home should have a hostel, library, canteen, gymnasium and an oratory. Funded rather substantially by Dr. Besant, the home was ready in 1915 and its public area, the oratory, was named after Gopala Krishna Gokhale.

The early meetings in the oratory were mainly political and often inflammatory, inviting the attention of the British police officers. Every so often, the YMIA would be pulled up by the authorities for allowing more people than was "permissible" to assemble in the Gokhale Hall. With several luminaries in the long list of persons who have addressed gatherings in the Hall, it is natural that capacity was exceeded on several occasions. It was not just political leaders and their fiery speeches that echoed here, but also musical notes of several great carnatic musicians who used to live in north Madras. It was the home of many of north Madras' sabhas - Muthialpet Sabha, Tondaimandalam Sabha - which are non-existent today. Though not much to look at, Gokhale Hall has been suffused with many memories of many great persons from all walks of life.

It is sad that the Young Men now want to knock down this Hall and construct a multi-storeyed office building here. The Madras High Court has stayed those plans for now, but how long can the public hold their interest in this building!

Last vestiges

In its heyday, this building was the nerve centre of one of the three largest firms in Madras, businesses which gave impetus to the development of the city. Of the three, Parrys continues to do well, both within the Murugappa Group and as Parryware Roca, while Arbuthnot has moved to Kolkatta as Gillanders Arbuthnot. Binny, however, is almost forgotten after the sale of their textile mills; everyone in Chennai older than 20 would certainly have heard of them, even if they hadn't used any of Binny's products. There was a time when Binny's was the only brand for school uniforms and even more so for the khaki used by scouts or the NCC cadets. The mills which made those clothes are giving way to a township that is proposed to be built on that site.

Today, the most visible side of the building is the one on Armenian Street, with the colonnaded verandah of the first floor. But the arrangement of the working hall on the first floor, combined with a staircase that ends at a door opening to Erabalu Chetty Street indicates that the main entrance was on that side of the building once upon a time.

One hopes that this building, which still houses the offices of Binny Ltd does not suffer the same fate as its brother, the textile mill!