Sudden turn

In the 1930s and early 1940s, CN Lakshmikanthan was the man who made the who's who of Madras society nervous. Movie stars, prominent socialites, industrialists, even politicians and lawyers were not spared his attention. As a journalist running a film weekly Cinema Thoothu (and later when Cinema Thoothu was banned, Hindu Nesan), Lakshmikanthan had almost perfected the art of extorting money with the thread of publishing scandalous stories about his targets. Most of them paid up, but there were some who were repeated frustrated by him. 

Things came to a head on the morning of November 8, 1944. Lakshmikanthan was returning home after a visit to his lawyer. He had the hand-rickshaw go through the General Collins Road route back home. This road had a blind turn around which his assailants lay in wait. Two of them stabbed Lakshmikanthan while two other kept watch. It appeared that Lakshmikanthan knew the assailants, event though he did not specify who they were to his lawyer, who arranged for him to be taken to the General Hospital right away. Being made of sterner stuff, Lakshmikanthan decided to file a complaint with the Vepery Police Station before going to the General Hospital.

The wounds were more serious than he realised, or maybe more wounds were inflicted on him. He died early the following morning; a trial for his murder put two famous actors and several others behind bars for a few years before they were determined to be innocent, or at least the beneficiaries of reasonable doubt. If only the walls and the trees on General Collins Road, which would well have been there even 79 years, ago could talk! The mystery of who killed Lakshmikanthan wouldn't have become the sensation it has grown to be through all these decades!

 

Help the people

This building in Purasawalkam houses the office of a Benefit Fund. Its name is so long that I am not going to write it out here. It is a fund that has been operating out of Purasawalkam since the late nineteenth century - and this building, to mark the centenary of the fund, is itself thirty-three years old!

Road to gate

James Lawder came to India as an Assistant Surgeon with the Madras Medical Service in July 1822. By then, he had been in service for a while and had seen action in the Peninsular War. He had also completed a stint in the USA; but it was in Madras that he spent the majority of his career. In 1835, Lawder was made a full surgeon. His most significant contribution seems to have been his views on the treatment of leprosy and the management of patients afflicted with the disease.

For some reason, James Lawder was sure that leprosy was a hereditary disease and that it was contagious. For this reason, he pitched strongly for expanding the Madras Leper Hospital and making a few changes in the facility. In 1839, the government of Madras made a grant of Rs.2,000/- to the MLH and Lawder used the funds to build high - over 3m - walls around the MLH, but also between the eleven wards of the MLH. He also favoured restraining the patients, so as to not have them spread the disease. With such facilities, the MLH seems to have been more of a prison than a hospital.

James Lawder married in Madras, and had a family here. Being a senior medical officer, he would have bought himself a garden house in Purasaiwalkam, accessed from the Poonamallee High Road. In those days, houses were few and road names non-existent. The path to Lawder's Gate became a road in itself. Even though the house and its memories have long gone - Lawder went back to England and died there in 1860 - the place still remembers the surgeon in the name of a street!

Merry Christmas

That's the spire of the Egmore Wesley Church - in 2015, it will celebrate its 110th anniversary. The stylized six-pointed star on its steeple could refer to any of several symbols associated with such stars. For today, however, we shall think of it as the Star of Bethlehem, shall we?

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Magic staffing

Ever wondered where to turn to when you are short of staff? If this sign is to be believed, it is just a matter of mumbling the correct incantations. I guess when you are really in a tight spot, any kind of magic is welcome!

Grand spectacle

In his career spanning over 40 years, Vittalacharya made movies that brought every kind of fantasy to the cinema screen. Whether it was a story from some by-lane of mythology, or a tale of queens and kingdoms, Vittalacharya's films would bring in all those delectable horrors of poltergeists, talking animals, supernatural beings - every kind of 'special effect' that you could not think of - to the hall and all one had to do was to sit entranced.

Though he was born in Udupi and his films were mainly in Kannada and Telugu, Vittalacharya was based in Madras for most of his life. He did make a few Tamizh films as well, but I don't remember any of them performing better than Jaganmohini. It was originally made in 1951 in Kannada by one of Vittalacharya's partners in their venture 'Mahatma Pictures'. The Telugu version, also dubbed in Tamizh was made by Vittalacharya in 1978 and was a huge hit, running for nearly a year in the theatres. 

This block of flats stand where Jaganmohini's release would have been plotted. Vittalacharya lived and worked out of his house on Saravana Perumal Street in Purasaiwalkam. After his death in 1999, the house was sold and made way for these modern residences to come up. The curved balconies and decorated sunshades have surely been influenced by the touch of the master, who was once known as Mayajaala Mannan!

Half and half

Half in the sun, and half in the shade. And the cows doing the same as well. This is certainly within the limits of Chennai city; don't let the cows fool you into thinking otherwise.

It is common practice in Chennai to have at least a shrine, if not a temple itself, for Vinayagar at the top of the 'T' where two streets intersect. The temple at this intersection of Vellala Street and Audiappa Street (from which we are approaching the temple) is dedicated to Karpaga Vinayagar. 

There is nothing remarkable about this temple. It is a recent one and is pretty much like hundreds of other temples in the city. Just that the half-light on it made it look interesting, that's all!

Saving water

It has been a little over a dozen years since the Tamil Nadu government amended the Chennai Metropolitan Area Groundwater (Regulation) Act of 1987. That amendment was carried through in a kind of tearing hurry, as the city's water reserves were almost exhausted. The law now required all buildings to ensure that they had made provisions for rainwater harvesting (RWH) and there was a phase of six months when the implementation was carried out vigourously. Buildings that passed muster had to have a notification indicating compliance displayed on their wall.

Most buildings displayed the notification in a discreet manner. Not this one, which has proudly proclaimed its status on this. For a moment, that basin seemed to be one of the components of the RWH process; but no, it is just a decorative piece - it doesn't even seem to hold the little bit of rainwater that has fallen into it!

Oh really?

I don't know what it means. I don't know if it is a promise or a threat. I don't know what 'Singappore' is. 

You go ahead, change your food style. And wait for the plate!

Who was that?

The first thought that this must be a contracted version of Ravana Iyer; but Ravanan is not a very common name. And the only other instance that I have come across the contraction of "ier" is in the name of Veena Kuppier. 

But more interesting for me is the way in which the Tamizh form of the name is written. The third letter is written in a way that is quite different from what the modern script prescribes, which is for it to be written thus -  "ணை". Now, this change in the script happened in 1978, which gives us another of those old white on blue boards!

The name lives on

The obituaries section of yesterday's The Hindu had twenty-one identical anniversary inserts. Well, twenty were identical and the twenty-first had the same photograph as all others, but covered a much bigger area of the page. All of them paid homage to Janab Haji S. Madhar Sha on the fifth anniversary of his passing away. The largest one was from the firm that he founded - Madhar Sha Group - while all the others were mainly from textile wholesalers from various cities, including a few from as far away as Surat. 

It is still difficult to think of Madhar Sha as a person. Radio advertisements in the 1970s and 80s kept throwing the name of the firm at us so often that it took on a larger-than-life image. In those days, it was probably that large, being one of the very few retail textile and garments showrooms in the city. It was certainly the largest in Purasaiwalkam and continues to be a landmark in the area.

But for all that, it has been very difficult to find any information about the Janab. Even finding another photograph of the man seems to be impossible. Help out, anyone!

Needs saving?

The Salvation Army has its Divisional Headquarters at Gangadeeswarar Koil Street in Purasawalkam. The Division referred to here is probably the state of Tamil Nadu; add Pondicherry, and that becomes the South-Eastern "Territory" in the Salvation Army's structure, with Territory Headquarters in Tirunelveli.

From the looks of the board and the building, some salvaging seems to be in order!

What's new?

It is not fair to expect a 'Tea House' to be open in the morning, which is when this picture was taken. The Novelty Tea House is not a pretentious newcomer to the world of eating out in Chennai; it is an establishment that is being run by the third generation in the business currently. 

Chandrakant Moolchand Shah was probably frustrated trying to find some north Indian snacks in the early '50s. He channeled that frustration into setting up a stall. There seem to have been no grand plans initially; it was just a 'tea stall', but clearly, the desire was to be different, hence 'Novelty'. Sowcarpet, where the first stall was, welcomed it. Over 50 years, the stall grew into a 'House', but remained within the north Madras area. It was only over the last 4 or 5 years that they have opened out to other parts of the city.

This one on Radhakrishnan Salai is, I believe, the most recent of the three locations. When open, it is usually chock-a-block with those itching to have a dahi-poori or four with their cuppa tea, or maybe a faluda. Once inside, it is easy to imagine you are away from Chennai - there is so much of Hindi in the air that English and Tamizh sound intrusive. But that is only to be expected at an establishment which claims to have introduced the pav-bhaji to Madras!

Cornerstone of church

Embedded into the side wall of the Emmanuel Methodist Church is this plaque, declaring that the corner stone was laid on 17th December 1878. The normal visitor would miss it, for it is not along a regular path. The security guard on duty however insisted that it had to be seen and so it was.

What the stone - acknowledged elsewhere by the church as its foundation stone - does not say is the story of how the church started off as a gleam in the eye of William Taylor. Taylor had arrived in India in 1870, after having toured a great number of countries over the previous seven years. He did not come to Madras with the intent of starting a Methodist Church. But he sensed that his approach as an Evangelist was not enough to overcome the lethargy of the local clergy and so decided to set up the Episcopal Church. Such energy was not unusual for Taylor. He had definite views on how churches in Asia and Africa should become self-sustaining and must be treated on par with the churches of the USA. This attitude put him in conflict with the Methodist mission board, who would rather have those recognized as missions, rather than churches. 

The church was renovated at the turn of the millennium. Though originally planned as minor repairs to the roofing, the effort grew to a complete renovation, replacing the original wooden trusses and expanding the seating capacity. It was probably at this time that The corner stone was actually moved around the corner!

One more century

There were a lot of coloured flags along the school wall and I was trying to figure out what they were for. A small sign (you can see it too, if you click on the photo to enlarge it and then check between the second and third flags from the right) gave me a clue, even though I could not really believe it.

The Ewart School - it has a much longer official name - started off in 1913 with three students. It was part of the effort by the Church of England to provide girls with proper education, at least as a finishing school. Over its century, Ewart's has had 7 principals - each of them serving for a long enough stretch to leave their imprint on the school.

The school song is a piece by Rudyard Kipling. I was wondering if he wrote it for Ewart's, but no, he did not. And it is not his work 'A School Song', but the closing poem, 'The Children's Song' from 'Puck of Pook's Hill' that has been used here!

Got it covered

As a shopping hotspot, Purasawalkam does not quite have the draw that T.Nagar has, but it can hold its own against almost any other locality for retail shopping. But a few decades ago, Purasai was the place to go to for almost anything; and it was especially favoured for clothing and textiles. Some of the early clothing 'store brands' of Madras were from this area. Glimpses of old glory can still be seen today - clothing stores line both sides along a stretch of Purasawalkam High Road.

In the early 1920s, this building - Venkatarathnam Mahal - would have been one of the many that housed several families. Carrying out their trading activities, these families would have used the ground floor more for their business, with the upper floor being the more private, family quarters. Today, hemmed in by its newer neighbours, it attempts to cover all its shortcomings by the catchy signages and displays at the street level. Upstairs is another story, though!