Memory remains

In 1718, Arumugam, the son of a Cuddalore merchant, was forced to leave his family and move to Tarangambadi. Arumugam had earlier studied at the Mission School in Cuddalore and had been influenced by books on Christianity; in Tarangambadi, he was baptized by Ziegenbalg, the first Lutheran missionary in India. Arumugam took on the name S. Aaron - the S most likely referencing Savarimuthu, the teacher who introduced him to Christianity. Savarimuthu was also one of the candidates, along with Aaron, who was considered to be ordained as the first native pastor; the teacher withdrew his candidature in favour of his student. Thus, in 1733, Aaron became the first Indian protestant pastor.

Aaron's great-grandson seems to have taken after him. In 1863, we see William Thomas Sathianadhan being assigned to the Chintadripet Church. He established himself in this position, and seems to have done much for the people to remember him by.  After his passing, the Chintadripet Church - by now renamed the Zion Church - constructed a meeting hall in his memory.

Going down the Arunachala Mudali Street in Chintadripet today, you will most likely miss this building; it stands way too close to the road and you would rather pay attention to the traffic than let your eyes wander up this facade. But if you choose to pause, and wonder, I am sure it will be worth your time!

School in the middle

As one of the earliest planned settlements of the city of Madras, during the 1730s, the designers of Chintadripet had thought of several amenities, including deities from the "old" city of Madras, for the convenience of its residents. However, they do not seem to have paid much attention to education - in the formal sense, as we know it now. It is not as if such schools were unknown; the 'Madras System of Education' was exported back to England from St George's School in the century before Chintadripet was a gleam on the banks of the Cooum. 

The oldest school in the Chintadripet areas is the 170 year old Chintadripet Higher Secondary School. This one in the picture is of a much more recent vintage. In the late 1940s, there was a need to expand one of the existing schools run by the Kalyanam Chetty family (who had funded it). It was then that Rao Bahadur Ganapathi Pillai, a Councillor of the Corporation of Madras, came forward and offered his property to house the school. He had only one condition: that the building should never be demolished. 

The construction of the times being quite solid, the building remains in fairly good condition. Even though it is crowded by its neighbours, the Chintadripet Middle School continues to run from this building - named "Ganapathi Buildings" after its benefactor!

Double action

This needs two photographs, because I cannot otherwise explain this. Even now, with the pictorial evidence, I can only prove that it is so, without any pointers to the what or why of it. Or for that matter, how is it that a narrow street starts off as 'Labon Lane' and within a couple of hundred metres, adds one letter and substitutes another, before ending up as 'Lapond Lane'. 

This lane is in Chintadripet, where we have seen the office of the Anti-Vice Squad earlier. And it emerges into Laban Street, at one end of which is the Chintadripet Police Station. These clues lead one to look for a Laban / Labon / Lapond among the police officers of Madras. That search is also more or less futile, but we go a step further knowing that there was indeed a Lafond (or, as Google Maps says, Laffond) who was a Deputy Commissioner of Police in the early 1860s. 

But there is not much more that is known of him. And so, we are still stuck with those questions of 'what did he do' or 'why this man'. It will be very interesting if someone comes up with the story of a Labon now!

Nice place

If it is Chintadripet, it must be all bustle and action. That is the impression people would have about one of the most active sections of Chennai city. But going down a lane in the area, one is surprised by the quiet surroundings. The buildings are all old-world, appearing to be well past their diamond jubilees at least. Large trees, even if they are not so old, provide a lot of green cover not only to the buildings, but to the pedestrians as well.

In the midst of such surroundings, this house - that is what it seemed to be, at first look - does not appear to be out of place. It is only when you see the sign there that you are shaken out of your reverie. Anti-Vice Squad? Here? In such peaceful surroundings? Yes, this is where the Anti-Vice Squad of the Chennai City Police is housed. 

Maybe it should be in the past tense. After the inauguration of a new office for the Chennai Commissionerate, this Squad might have also shifted there. It might be good for them to continue in these surroundings, however; faced with the stench of vice in the course of their work, the police(wo)men could feel refreshed working in such a pleasant neighbourhood!

Main gate

It is not really the main gate, but for most of the workers of Simpson & Co Ltd, these are the gates through which they would enter their workplace. The firm is over 150 years old, having been established sometime in the 1840s. Arnold Wright, writing in 1914 about businesses in Madras, claims the year to be 1840 itself. After 170 years, that is a minor quibble, but more interesting is what Wright says about the range of its products. The firm was set up by A.F. Simpson, a Scotsman who came to Madras to ply his trade as a wheelwright. He expanded into harnesses, saddles, boots - all those things that riders may need - and then into coaches also. In a short span of 5 years, Simpson was able to make a name for his products in Madras city and moved from his initial premises on Poonamallee High Road to Mount Road. 

The products were of quite high quality and Simpson reached out to a clientele beyond Madras. The way he chose to get there was through London; it was, even in the 19th century, a preferred vacation spot for rich and famous Indians. Displaying (and advertising) his coaches at industrial exhibitions in London, he canvassed orders from his target demographic right there and supplied them from his works on Mount Road.

By the early 20th century, Simpson had passed on and the firm was being run by George Underhill Cuddon, who had joined the firm as a clerk in 1891. In 1914, the products, as described by Wright, included "carriages, motor-cars, or billiard-tables". However, sometime in the middle of the 20th century, Simpson & Co Ltd had become more specialized, as a manufacturer of diesel engines for various applications. In the 1980s, they attempted a joint venture with Ford to assemble trucks (or LCVs) but that was not successful. They continue to stick with the engines - and they look set to be doing it for another 170 years and more!

Garland street

Even though the last major news agency moved out almost a decade ago, Fleet Street continues to evoke images of the print media, just as Harley Street reminds us about physicians. Are there any similar streets in Chennai? I am not really sure, but Iyya Mudali Street in Chintadripet comes very close. 

Around the temples of Mylapore or Triplicane, it is possible to find several shops that sell a variety of garlands. However, those are just sales outlets. At Iyya Mudali Street, the packed garlands are intended to be despatched elsewhere. You may be able to place an order here, but I doubt if spot sales to walk-in customers are encouraged. The garlands - most of them with some proportion of sandalwood - have been crafted for specific occasions. Almost any commemorative occasion needs the chief guest and a few other dignitaries to be garlanded - and off to Iyya Mudali Street go the organizers. 

There are quite a few other traditional items that are crafted in the shops that line the entrance to this street. Remember the thombais? And the temple umbrellas? Well, you can take a safe bet they were made right here in Chintadripet!

Serving two masters

Vythinatha Iyer, possibly in a spurt of teenage rebellion, converted to Christianity when he was 17. He took on the name John, but used it only as a prefix. John Vythinatha Iyer certainly would have made people pause and wonder. 

But no, I am not talking about the clash of religious identities, here. The memorial stone at the Zion Church in Chintadripet talks about his serving the Government as well as working for the Church.  That's not a feat many could have managed!

A memorial hall

It was in 1847 that a 17 year old "high-caste" boy at Palayamkottai converted to Christianity and was baptized as William Thomas Satthianadhan. The 'William' most probably was to honour William Cruickshank, the headmaster of the Anglican school who was instrumental in the conversion. W.T. Satthianadhan, with the zeal of the converted, went on to complete his studies in Divinity and Theology. Starting off with the Christian Missionary Society's school in 'Tinnevelly', he moved through a couple of other postings before being appointed as the pastor of the church at Chintadripet. 

He served there for thirty years, during which time the church was renamed as the Zion Church and he oversaw its expansion in 1880. After his passing in 1892, his son-in-law Rev W.D. Clarke took over. Within a couple of years, he had constructed a multi purpose hall next to the Zion Church and named it for his father-in-law. 

After nearly 130 years, that hall is in good shape. At least, it looks to be so from the outside - I am not sure if it continues to be used for any of the purposes it was intended to serve!

Doctor of letters - almost

It might sound a bit surprising now, but in the late 19th century, it was pretty much the order of things that a young girl in the Bombay Presidency desiring to study a formal course in medicine should come up to Madras to do so. The Madras Medical College had just started admitting female students and Krupabai Khisty's frail health did not allow her to go abroad to study medicine, as she had been advised to by a family friend. And so to Madras she went, in 1878, a frail girl of sixteen. Though her father, Rev Hari Punt Khisty had died when she was very young, he was remembered enough for a fellow missionary, Rev W.T. Satthianadhan, to take her into his house as a boarder. At the end of the first year, Krupabai was rated as a brilliant student, but her health was shot - she had to give up the study of medicine.

It was an extremely trying period for her. Her elder brother Bhasker was also no more and she was in Madras, far away from her family. Luckily, she found a companion for her intellect in the Rev. Satthianadhan's son Samuel, who had recently returned from Cambridge. They got along very well and were married in 1883. She had been writing short pieces to get past her loneliness and Samuel encouraged her to go further. That was how the magazine South India Observer carried her first published article, "A visit to the Todas", under her pen name 'An Indian Lady'. 

It was An Indian Lady who went on to write what is arguably the first English novel written by an Indian woman: Saguna: A Story of Native Christian Life, published in 1890. The Story of a Conversion followed in 1891 and her last work Kamala: A Story of Hindu Life came out in 1894. In some ways, she followed a path taken by Toru Dutt, a "pioneer of Indo-Anglican writing"; there is however no reason to believe that Krupabai knew of her, for Toru died in 1877, all of 21 years old; Krupabai was then 5. Krupabai died young, too, in 1894. Had Toru Dutt completed writing Bianca, she would have been the claimant to the title that now seems quite firmly Krupabai's.  It is as such that she is remembered in the memorial tablet erected by her husband, in the church cared for by her father-in-law!

Landed!

Did you know that the city is so advanced it has aircraft landing on rooftops? Here's proof from the roof of a house in Chintadripet. 

And yes, the aircraft does deliver the water for this house!

Pump it out

"A civilisation is known by the quality of its drains". I am sure it was not Florence Nightingale who said this, but she said quite a lot about sanitation in India. Particularly, she was the moving force behind Madras' efforts to get a drainage system in the second half of the 19th century. She was convinced that Lord Hobart, Governor of Madras between May 1872 and April 1875, was a victim of the city not having proper drains. In her letter of June 25, 1875 to William Clark, who was in-charge of the sanitary engineering project in Madras, she writes, "There is small doubt that Lord Hobart died of delay: i.e. in carrying out Drainage".

Despite her support, the sanitary engineering project for Madras moved at an excruciatingly slow pace. The reasons could have been many, but in 1882, a letter to Lord Ripon, then Viceroy of India, she despairs, "You ask me to tell you "as to what is doing with the sewerage and draining of Madras." I wish I could. I only know that they are doing something different from any of the plans which have been discussed." Lord Ripon had had the work kicked off in 1881, but even then it did not proceed quickly. Somehow, it seems to have all come together and the city does have a drainage system today, just in case you are wondering.

The system as it worked then was to collect all the sewage in what is today the May Day Park and pump it out to the sea, possibly through the Cooum. That sewage farm has disappeared, but a key office of Chennai's Metrowater operates from those premises. The name of that road also calls to memory a time when all of Chennai's drains would come here to be pumped out! 

Couple of questions

This was in front of the Chenna Kesava temple at Chindatripet. The elephant seems to be guarding the chariot with its colourful cylindrical cloth hangings - called தொம்பை ("thombai") in Tamizh. And no, the elephant hasn't fallen flat on its tummy, it is supposed to be doing something else.

So here are the questions: the first is What is the English word for தொம்பை ("thombai")?

The second question has been borrowed from Quizzerix - how would you connect what the elephant is doing with a happening spot in Velachery? A clue is that you need to think on the same lines as for an earlier question on this blog. And like then, if you get it right, I shall let you take me, and I promise to enjoy it. 

But if you let me have an answer to the first question, I shall take you to the Velachery connect!

Accessories

There are some accessories that do not depend on the car. Spotted this new Mercedes in a Chindatripet by-lane today. So new that not only is it yet to be registered, but the yellow ribbon with a bow-tie was still on the vehicle.

Also on the vehicle were accessories that you will not get at any car showroom. Maybe they are from a temple, but they could equally be from the grocer round the corner. Five lemons and six green chillies may not sound much, but obviously they are a must-have for a new Mercedes!

The things you find

Of course there was curiosity. But no luck in identifying whose it was, for the passport was missing a few pages and there was no information on any of the other pages. 

Mixed up?

Once upon a time, the name of this street was a little longer. But with the government deciding that caste names and titles should not be publicly acknowledged, the original name of Kalavai Chetty Street was shortened. And in doing so, they anonymised one of Madras' prominent merchants, Kalavai Chetty. Some of his business partners, who were dubashes of the British East India Company, are remembered - with their full titles - in street names of George Town.

Kalavai Chetty was quite prosperous and lived north of Fort St George. His business dealings took up a lot of time and he was unable to visit the Kachhapeeswarar temple in Kanchipuram as often as he would have liked to. His solution was simple: build a temple in Madras itself. That he did, giving over a part of his lands on what is today Armenian Road. It may not have hurt him much, because at his peak, the leases he held included Tiruvottiyur, Tondiarpet, Vyasarpadi, Purasaiwakkam, Egmore and Nungambakkam. 

The settlement of Chintadripet, where this street is located, was a little after his heyday, although he must still have been around. Maybe he gave up a part of his holdings here for the settlement to come up, and hence a street with his name came up here rather than in George Town. How nice it would have been to have retained his anglicised name, Colloway Chetty, in this street - when the Chetty dropped, that would have got us all mixed up!

Temple sign

To all those who think people in Chennai don't speak anything other than Tamizh (or "Madras bashai": take a look at this sign. 

Now, how about a bit of English, as well?

Fast foto

Running out of pictures, and time. Random pictures of Chennai will come to my rescue, as one does here. The eatery has cornered the market, with the hotel and the fast food joint. It is tucked away at Iyya Mudali Street, Chintadripet.

As this picture uploads, I realize the sign to its left is also quite interesting. It seems to promise that Venkateswaraswami will get anything for you - as long as it is either 'ஏ' or 'ஷட்'!

Chintadripet church

That was the functional name accorded to the church that was set up in 1843 in Chintadripet. Situated on Arunachala Mudali Street, this church was ministered to by a succession of family members for over a hundred years. All of them are descendants of Cuddalore Arumugam, who in 1733 became the first Indian to be ordained a Protestant pastor, taking on the name S. Aaron. Aaron's great grandson, Rev. William Thomas Sathianadhan was assigned to the Chintadripet Church in 1863. By that time, the church had constructed its building - something that happened in 1847 itself. It was expanded in 1880 and then again in 1912. 

It was Rev. Sathianadhan who renamed it the Zion Church; after his time, his son in law, Rev. W.D. Clarke took over as pastor and the family connection continued through his son and grandson. The last Clarke, of the fourth generation, served as the pastor until 1972. 

Apart from the pastors, the other long-running association this church has is a pipe-organ, which was brought from England in 1895. Renovated in 2006, it continues to add music to the church choir to this day!

Old house

Chintadripet was one of the earliest 'planned settlements' of Madras. It was in 1734 that the Company took over a garden (and quite a garden it must have been) belonging to Sunku Rama Chetty, who was until 1731 the Chief Merchant of Fort St George. That land was given to him in 1719 by Governor Joseph Collet, but in the years that followed, Sunku Rama Chetty's arrogance to the Company's European merchants led to his downfall. Not only was he dismissed from his post in 1731, Governor Morton Pitt took over his garden with the intent of creating a settlement for weavers. 

By 1735, the 'Village of Small Looms' ("Chinna-thari-pettai" சின்ன தறி பேட்டை) was up and weaving. Apart from the Audikesava Perumal temple, there is probably no other structure that dates back to the early days of the village. But walking down the roads of Chintadripet today, you still get to see many old houses - like this one, which is surely from the turn of the 20th century. 

This picture was taken during a photowalk a couple of months ago. A fellow photo-walker's post says the lady sitting on the thinnai was waiting for her daughter-in-law to bring her her 2nd cup of coffee!

Reading hall

Tamil Nadu's Directorate of Public Libraries manages over 4,000 libraries in the state. Of those, very few can claim to have a longer history than that of the Goschen Library in Chintadripet. INTACH's guide to Madras' buildings dates it to the end of the 19th century, but it is more possible that it was actually founded in 1927 - the 2nd Viscount Goschen took up his position as Governor of Madras only in 1924. Of course, both may be correct; the building could have served as a public meeting place before being re-purposed as a library, in which case, we should also know something of its original name.

That's not difficult, for there is something on the facade; as far as it an be made out from the picture, it is something like "P. V... Chetty's Hall". It would be far easier to read it on the building itself. So, it is possible that the public hall was taken over to establish The Goschen Library. In its heyday, it had over 15,000 books. Today, like many other public libraries, it serves as a quite place for those wishing to read the daily newspapers; anything more substantial may be expecting too much from the vast majority of the 4,000 libraries in the state. 

It was too early for visitors - the library opens at 8 am, shuts for lunch at 12.30 pm and then, after a siesta, functions again between 4 pm and 8 pm. One of these days, one must get into this library during the working hours and try to figure out how many of those 15,000 books remain!