Union office

Once upon a time, WIMCO was an iconic brand, at the very least in the Tiruvottiyur area. It was one of the earliest factories there. The company itself was incorporated in 1923; the factory at Madras used to make matches, which was what the company was known for, so it is likely that its presence at Tiruvottiyur goes back to the first half of the 20th century.

I don't remember much about the factory, even though I had visited it a couple of times. But I remember this building on Tiruvottiyur High Road very well, since I passed it every day for a couple of years or so. WIMCO itself went through a very tough time in the late 1990s and early 2000s, with industrial unrest being almost a standard feature of its operations. Almost all the workers at Tiruvottiyur left. Wimco Workers Union was without a raison d'être. The building came to be used for other businesses. 

Once this building goes - as it is bound to, soon, - there will be little left of WIMCO in this place. The last survivors will be the residential area, still called Wimco Nagar, and the suburban railway station of the same name. Wimco will pass into history!

Whitened man

Putting his statue out on the Marina will convey the grandeur of his vision, but he did walk the streets like a common man as well. Mohandas Gandhi is not usually brought down to the streets, remaining instead on a pedestal, most of the time doing something: striding or spinning are the common choices.

This statue of the Mahatma may be closer to street level, but it has been positioned just outside the temple at Tiruvottiyur, indicating the normal approach of putting him close to the Gods. This is quite an amateur rendering, sponsored by a political party. (Though if you click on the photo, the enlarged version will show the colour scheme of a different party in his eyes....). And yet, being accessible to many more people, it helps to keep the story of the man alive.

In case you missed it, there is one of Gandhiji's favourite tenets atop the cupola; the three cherub-like figures represent the "see-no-evil, speak-no-evil, hear-no-evil" philosophy that he held dear. Gandhiji had them represented more faithfully as Mizaru, Kikazaru and Iwazaru, the three wise monkeys of Japanese lore; but the sculptor probably thought that monkeys may not be appropriate in this case!

Sugarcane saint

As temples go, this doesn't look like much. After having been neglected for a couple of decades, the Pattinathar Thirukkoil at Tiruvottiyur has had some clean up done around it in the last year or so. After all, what is a few years here and there when we are talking about a legend that has been in the making for over five hundred years?

A native of Kaviripoompattinam, Thiruvenkadar was a leading merchant of his time. Lord Shiva appeared in his dream and advised him to adopt Marudavanar; it was much later that Thiruvenkadar learnt that Marudavanar was the Lord Himself. After one of his apprenticeship trading trips, Marudavanar disappeared, leaving behind a box of his 'earnings' from the trip. Thiruvenkadar opened the box to find cowdung, husk and an 'olai' (ஓலை) with the phrase "not even an eyeless needle will accompany the soul on its last journey". Realising it was a message from Shiva, Thiruvenkadar renounced his material comforts and turned an ascetic, travelling to various parts of the land, going as far north as Kailas before heading back to south India. No longer Thiruvenkadar, he was now known as Pattinathar - the man from Pattinam. During these journeys, Pattinathar had a vision of Lord Shiva telling him that he would gain salvation at a spot where sugarcane tastes sweet. It was finally at Tiruvottiyur that he came across "pei karumbu" (பேய் கரும்பு) - wild sugarcane that nobody would touch, for it was viciously bitter. Pattinathar however found it sweet; and it was here that he attained samadhi. 

The ascetic's temple is also spartan. Though there are the routine pujas and festivals, it is believed that Pattinathar rejects pomp, and anything more than simple offerings or prayers would result in a negative reaction!

Dog days

It is hot enough for even the dogs to seek some shade. This one finds it inside an auto-rickshaw parked outside the Tiruvottiyur temple. After the hike in petrol prices on Sunday, even the LPG auto-rickshaws would be hard pressed for business.

Dog days for everyone, indeed!

Suburban justice?

Tiruvottiyur may be within the Chennai postcode area, but for judicial matters, it falls in the Tiruvallur district. Justice in this part of Chennai is dealt with by the District Munsif (for civil matters) and the Judicial Magistrates (for criminal cases). In contrast to the pomp and show of the Madras High Court, the courts of these officials are quite homely. On a Sunday morning, it was not difficult to mistake these gates as being that of a school or something as harmless.

Judicial Magistrates can award sentences that are of less than 1 year's imprisonment (or a Rs.5,000 fine, at max) and the District Munsif has similar limits. The first court in Tiruvottiyur was apparently a sub-court that began functioning in 1965. It was only in 1996 that the sub-court was upgraded to its current status.

There was a news item that said a building for the combined DM / JM courts was inaugurated in November 2008. Though these buildings seem much older, I'm sure there are no other courts in Tiruvottiyur! 

Colourless beings

The bhootaganas (Siva's attendants) are normally found at the corner walls of Siva's temples - the old ones, especially. Mostly, they are little cared for and they sit, with the grime and dust of the ages wearing away their beings, like this one at the Tiruvottiyur Thyagarajar temple.

Rarely does one find a colourful gana, like this one here!

Complex entrance

Here's one more rajagopuram; unlike the one pictured on this blog earlier, this gopuram is as old as the temple and not a later addition. Also, this is the entrance not just to one temple, but an entire complex, with at least 10 sannithis (sanctums), a goshala (dairy) and lots of space, both open and covered, for devotees to sit awhile. There is also a garden with 27 nakshatra lingams - according to lore, the 27 stars of the Hindu lunar calendar have worshipped at this temple at some time or the other.

It does appear to be a temple beyond time; the stones on the outer wall appear to be sagging from the weight of the ages, but most of the complex is reasonably well preserved. Inscriptions on the temple pillars date it back to the time of the early Chola kings, about 1500 years ago. Looking at it from the bustle of present day Chennai, or even British Madras, Tiruvottiyur appears a rather odd location for such a large and prestigious temple. The Thyagarajar temple (or more completely, the Thyagaraja Swamy udanurai Vadivudaiamman temple) is therefore a very visible reminder of the existence of a thriving town - one among several that have now been embraced by Greater Chennai - long before the British arrived.

Reclaiming the land

About fifteen years ago, a friend and I were sitting late into the night on the beach - rather, on a ledge of sand that passed for a beach - at Tiruvottiyur. After a while, we noticed that the soil of the ledge under us was crumbling; the coastline of India, as my friend put it, was changing before our eyes! Within a year of that evening, the sea had gobbled up about 300 metres of beach, caved in part of the Ennore Expressway and then washed off another 100 metres or so of the land on the other side of the road. Though sea erosion had for long been a problem in North Madras, this rapid re-drawing of the coastline hastened action to stop further loss of the land.

Residents of Tiruvottiyur have always contended that it was the construction of the Jawahar Dock at the Port of Madras in 1964 that marked the beginning of their woes and that it was exacerbated by the Bharati Dock coming up in 1970. It is likely that these docks contributed to a minor change in the pattern of sea-currents and their effects. Normally, the currents would change their direction roughly every half-year therby alternating between erosion and accretion along the beaches. With a localised disturbance around the port, the effects were imbalanced along the coast to the north, resulting in the erosion. One estimate has it that almost 350 acres of land in Tiruvottiyur - another says 2800 acres along the Royapuram-Tiruvottiyur stretch - has been lost since 1970.

Since the late '70s, there have been several recommendations and some action on protecting the shoreline. Boulders along the shore, rubble-mound seawalls and several other measures have been tried, modified and tried again. The one measure that seems to have had reasonable success is the construction of groynes - there are 9 of them, of varying lengths, along the coast from Royapuram to Ennore. This is the second one (the first can also been seen in the distance), just north of Royapuram Fishing Harbour. All told, the groynes have helped to reclaim about 20 acres of land since they were built in 2004 - there's a long way to go before the sea gives up all that it has taken!

Stopped clock

If it hadn't been for a small dial on the map, it would have been easy to go past this clock tower without realizing its existence. Unlike the ones on White's Road or at the end of Radhakrishnan Salai, this one is along the side of the road rather than at an island in the centre. In that aspect, it is more like the one at Doveton, though the latter has its own little island patch. Lacking any such build-up around it, this clock tower stands at the corner of Tiruvottiyur High Road and Sannithi Street, looking rather unkempt and forlorn.

Unkempt it is, alright. The three clock towers that have been written about earlier were all showing the correct time, even if the one at Doveton could have done with a coat of paint. This one seems to have had a recent paint job done on it, but that does not make up for the lack of functionality. Each face shows a different time; before anyone makes a claim that this clock tower shows international times, let me add that the clock has stopped running, too.

All told, the excitement of seeing the dial on the roadmap wore off very quickly. This is not one of the old world clock towers; the foundation stone at its base was in Tamizh, though the letters are indecipherable. From what can be seen, one would guess this tower to be about 30 to 40 years old; with the older ones working fine, age cannot be an excuse for its almost complete neglect!