Music, not arms

The Doveton Group of schools in Chennai has under its management 8 schools in the city. The most famous among them is arguably the Doveton Corrie School for Boys in Vepery (though it is not called by that name any longer, if I am correct). The oldest school in this group goes back to 1855, but today, we are looking at a school that began in the centenary year of the Doveton Group of Schools.

In 1955, the Group purchased this piece of land in Choolai from one Howard Oakley. Of Oakley, I have not been able to find much, other than that he was the Patron of the Madras Amateur Photographers Society in 1932, reviving it after the post-War years. Anyway, Oakley seems to have disappeared from Madras after this sale and a Doveton Nursery began functioning here on July 15, 1955. For a long while, it was coasting along, taking in young children in the nursery and kindergarten, going on to include primary schooling as well. It may well be a feeder school to the others in the Doveton Group. It was in 2001 that, for some reason, the name of the school was changed to include Oakley. Today it functions as the Doveton Oakley Nursery and Primary School. 

One of the major activities here seems to be music. In And that brings us to the logo. When I first looked at it as I passed by, I thought it was some kind of cannon; given that John Doveton, the founder of the Group, was a distinguished military officer, the logo did not seem out of place. It was only after discovering the musical bent of this school that I took a closer look at the logo. And realised that clarinets and cymbals might well be mistaken for charging cannons!

Window wall

We have some idea of what would happen if walls had ears. But what if they had windows? I am talking specifically about the outer walls of a building, the ones that separate the spaces inside and outside. 

Here is an example. This wall is on General Collins Road, Vepery. And it is not a merchant's house or anybody's residence. This belongs to the Presentation Convent. 

I wonder how it would feel for the girls inside class to look out of the window and see the 'free world' outside - or, more likely, to be cooped up inside with the windows shut and imagine what is happening outside through all the noises that would certainly seep in!

 

Model school?

In 1742, Johann Philipp Fabricius, a German missionary, arrived in Madras from Tranquebar. Fabricius was the head of the Danish Tranquebar Mission, a Lutheran congregation and he moved to Madras to provide for the Lutherans of Vepery. It was this man who managed to obtain a printing press - which was seized from de Lally's Pondicherry in 1761 - from Governor Pigot after assuring him that the government's printing requirements would be given a higher priority than the Mission's.

Fabricius contributed significantly to the Mission in Madras. He translated a German version of the Bible into Tamizh, besides a Tamizh-English lexicon. For all those contributions, his name was bestowed, in 1898, upon the Lutheran Mission Middle School that had been set up in 1849. From then on called the Evangelical Lutheran Mission Fabricius School, it arguably most famous alumnus is R.K. Narayan, who joined it as a 6-year old in 1912. 

Narayan does not seem to have had much fun in this school, though. In his book Swami and Friends, Narayan has the boy-hero attending the Albert Mission School at Malgudi. Swami, however, gets to do things that Narayan would not have dared to: questioning the Scripture Master's scoffing of Hindu deities, or throwing the Headmaster's cane out of the window when it was threatening to come down for a couple of the juiciest. But let us not forget that Swami was a 10-year old doing all this, while Narayan had to deal with such instances much earlier in his life!

Enclave

The name of the apartment complex was unique enough to take a second look at. Was it something to do with a religious sect? Or was it in memory of someone important? Turns out it was (is) neither. Zalawad was one of the princely states of Saurashtra. I have not been able to figure out what Zalawad was like. But the history of the integration of Saurashtra, post-independence, makes for interesting reading. 

Apparently, the geography of Saurashtra - or Kathiawar as it was known - makes for interesting reading. The region had fourteen 'salute' states, seventeen non-salute states and 191 other small states. Of the small states, 46 had an area of less than 2 square miles each. The smallest, Vejanoness, had an area of 0.29 sq.m, a population of 206 and an annual income of Rs.500. 

The state of Zalawad seems to have been somewhere in between these minuscule principalities and the salute states. The only map of Zalawad that I have been able to find is in Gujarati, which I cannot read. Maybe some of the neighbours from that region came together to Madras and began to stay together in this part of Vepery, and maybe their families continue to live together in this apartment complex!

Mixed church

In 1749, under the terms of the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, the French handed Fort St George back to the British. Never again, thought the British, and made arrangements for garrisoning additional troops within the Fort, apart from clearing the settlements to its north and west.  Not stopping with these, they also tore down a Capuchin chapel within the Fort, believing that Pe Severini had conspired to help the French capture the Fort three years earlier. 

The chapel moved to a piece of land in Vepery that belonged to Coja Petrus Uscan. Uscan had a private chapel there and he turned that over to the Capuchins. However, after his death, the British ensured that the chapel and its grounds were handed over to the SPCK - the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge. And the premises were used to house some of the British troops. The soldiers used the woodwork of the chapel to light their kitchen fires and, by 1821, the chapel was deemed to be beyond repair. It was then that the plans for a new church were finalized, under the guidance of John Goldingham and conditional financial support from the SPCK: the condition was that the new church would worship only according to the Rites of the Church of England. 

The foundation of the St Matthias Church was laid on December 8, 1823 and when the building was completed, it was opened to the public on June 18, 1826. It is said that atop each pinnacle on the eastern side was placed a chembu (copper vessel), with mango leaves and a coconut on top. Also, the main entrance to the church with its arch and doors is Mohammedan in design, and is flanked with elements representing plantain and mango leaves, which are considered auspicious. Maybe the builders were deliberately mixing the three major religious styles to ensure that the church did not inherit the fate of the chapel it grew from!

A brother less

The frontage of this shop, at the end of Ritherdon Road in Vepery, seems to have remained unchanged since the time it was first opened here circa 1920. The business was founded and run by Gajendra Rao, but is now being taken care of by his grandson. 

Until a few years ago, it was run by his grandsons. Not sure of the names of the other, who must have cashed out on his partnership and gone away from Vepery. I remember seeing a post showing the sign on this board reading "M.C. Heroji Rao & Bror". Today, little remains of the Bror. It is a different sign, stating M.C. Heroji Rao's exclusive ownership.

Is there a reason why the doors are still unopened? Or, did I get here too early on a Sunday or something?

Old marker

This stone tells of a tree being planted to mark the centenary of a building’s foundation. That’s a nice, ‘green’ marker, and it tells you that being green is not a new fad. This tree was planted by Lady Willingdon, the then governor’s wife. That should give you some indication of how long ago it was done.

That tree is itself now nearly a century old. Planted in 1923, it was part of the centenary celebrations at St Mathias Church, in Vepery. More of the church itself later!

Waiting to fall

It must have been a lovely residence in its time, but it is now a bhoot-bangla. Set back from the road, it would be missed by almost everyone walking past. All along Ritherdon Road, the buildings, even old ones appeared to be quite well maintained, so this one came as a surprise. Managed to get this one picture before the watchman there insisted we go away.

Surprisingly, there are several buildings like this one. Left to ruin because there are several claimants to the property, litigating over it. Wonder if any of the neighbourhood kids use this to play in… or is that too dangerous?

Toys

It was probably too early in the day for the children to be out. And we weren't buying any of those colourful toys that this man was carrying around. The choice was tempting: Spiderman and Mickey Mouse masks, multicoloured toy windmills and those vuvuzela-like contraptions that are guaranteed to give a kid a great time.

But no, we weren't buying any. You will have to wait for the children to arrive, toy-man!

Sinking in

This is one of the smaller roads in the Vepery area. And the mystery behind the name has been guarded very carefully. Maybe one of those reading this post will be able to throw some light on who Letang was. That it will be a person is not to be doubted, for there is a record of a couple of people who were born with that name in Madras between 1850 - 1880. Alfred Otranto Letang was the older one, coming into the world in 1853, while Constance LeTang followed him 26 years later. This road could have been named for either of them - or for their fathers: Peter (Alfred's) or Charles (Constance's). 

Or, it could be Ambrose Pierre Antoine, Chevalier de L'Etang. de L'Etang was stable-master for Marie Antoinette and had to leave France in a hurry after the French Revolution. In 1788, he was in Pondicherry, where he married Therese Blin de Grincourt. He also seems to have been an author, turning his experiences - and those of others - into a volume on farriery in 1795. But this connect seems to be a little far-fetched, for Antoine seems to have gone on to Calcutta....

So, the mystery remains. Can someone solve it, before the story sinks - like the road sign is threatening to?

Learning of temple?

Looking at it from across the road, one is sure it is a Jain temple; the distintictive whiteness of soapstone and marble, unique to these temples, is a giveaway. But the entrance throws a googly at you. Though it does say "Shree Jain Prarthana Mandir", it goes on to also describe the Guru Shree Shantivijai Jain College for Women, leaving one confused if it is two-in-one structure.

From what is visible over the walls, there seems little chance of holding classes in what seems to be a multi pillared, open-hall kind of arrangement on the first floor. The students, however are not required to be inside this building, though it was built to encourage them to be more devout. A rather unusual feature of this temple is that it has two chief deities; on the ground floor is Gurudev Yogiraj Shanti Sureshwari. He is in the standard mode, back to a wall, facing all the devotees. On the first floor, the idol of Shree Parshvanathji, the 23rd Thirthankara, is in the middle of the hall, facing all four directions. That seems to be a really unique way of keeping watch on everything that's going around!

Day Memorial or Memorial Day?

It is generally accepted that Madras came into being on August 22, 1639, when Day and Cogan accepted a grant of land from the Nayaks of Poonamallee. Yet, there are many who bristle at the idea that this great city was a child of foreign parents. They point to the rock-cut caves and stone-age relics of Pallavaram, to the temples at Tiruvottiyur and even to the 'Portugee' settlement at San Thomé - a town that Arab traders of the 10th century CE knew as 'Betumah' - as evidence of thriving habitations long before 1639. Those objections have some level of validity, but it took the British East India Company's efforts to stitch together all of these, and several other villages, to craft the Madras that has evolved into the Chennai of today. Since those efforts began with Day and Cogan, they deserve a place of honour in the city's history.

Unfortunately, there is no record of any memorial to either of the two, or their dubash, Beri Thimappa; an omission that has often been lamented by several of the city's heritage enthusiasts. The name of this building is therefore rather intriguing. Actually, I missed it at the first look, because the signboard saying 'Madras Centenary Telugu Baptist Church' was what caught my eye and I took the picture of the church building. It was only later that I began to ascribe different meanings to the words 'The Day Memorial' on the building.

Could this actually be a forgotten memorial to the city's founder? Or is it commemorative of the founding day? Another trip to Vepery is definitely called for!

Caring for animals

The earliest veterinarians to qualify in India had their training on the banks of the Adayar, because that's where the Farm School was located. That school went on to become the Agricultural College and in 1876, the College, deciding that veterinary science needed its own specialised course, began offering a 2-year diploma course in that faculty. Madras once again led the field, in the sense of creating the specialty, but it took the city 27 years to upgrade that scheme of instruction to a proper college, with a 3-year course leading to the diploma. In the meantime, the veterinary colleges at Lahore, Bombay and Calcutta had gone ahead with their diploma programmes.

When scouting around for a suitable location for the college, Veterinary Major WD Gunn, the Superintendent of the Veterinary Department, was offered use of hospital donated by the Raja Venugopal Kishan Bahadur to them, by the SPCA. Under the terms of their agreement, that hospital could be used as a teaching hospital, but there was to be no change in its name - an arrangement that continues to this day. Major Gunn requested for and was allowed use of Dobbin Hall, a little way across the road from the RVKB Hospital for Animals, as the premises of the Madras Veterinary College. Thus, the Madras Veterinary College enrolled its first batch of 20 students in 1903.

The early start that the institution had was not entirely in vain. In 1930, a Royal Commission recommended that one of the veterinary colleges in India be upgraded and allowed to offer a degree in veterinary science, rather than just a diploma. For three years, a government Commission went around inspecting the all the colleges in the country before awarding that honour to the Madras Veterinary College. But it was only in 1936, when 50 students were admitted to the degree programme, that the Madras Veterinary College become the first in the country to award degrees in veterinary medicine - see, you just can't keep that first away!

An officer and a litterateur

Not many people have been successful at combining the hard life of a police officer with the sensitivity of an author and playwright. Throw in the fact that one of his most famous works is an interpretation of Harischandra and the contrast between the two personas becomes that much sharper. It is therefore a significant credit to Diwan Bahadur Saravana Bhavanandam Pillai that he is remembered (although only just about) equally for his policing prowess as well as his literary legacy.

Bhavanandam Pillai was one of the first Indians to rise through the ranks to become the Assistant Commissioner of Police in Madras. He was also keenly interested in the history of the Tamizh language and set up the Bhavanandam Academy Trust to help scholars research into that history. Newton House on Jeremiah Road, where he lived, is now home to the library of the Academy and also serves as its head office.

In the name of the 'reformer'

As had happened with many other Britons of his era, William Henry Cavendish, the Lord Bentinck, also found his first stint as a government servant in India ending with some degree of mess. Taking charge as Governor of Madras in 1803, he muddled along until 1806, when he brought out a 'dress code' for Indian soldiers. This code, which forbade Hindoos from displaying religious marks on their foreheads and required Mohammedans to shave off their beards led to the Vellore Mutiny of 1806; a single day on July 10 during which over 500 soldiers - 200 British and then, in retaliation, about 400 Indian - were killed. That was enough for Lord Bentinck to be called back home, in 1807.

It took him a couple of decades to return, this time as Governor-General of Bengal. Given the mandate to turn around the losses incurred by the East India Company, he stuck to it closely and was reasonably successful. Taking over as Governor-General of India in 1833, Lord Bentinck put his full weight behind Thomas Macaulay's 1835 Minute on Indian Education. He capped the subsidies being provided to schools which taught in any language other than English. To be fair, he also encouraged new schools promoting western education to come up, speeding up the spread of English as the link language across the sub-continent.

Lord Bentinck is also credited with putting an end to the practice of sati, where a widow is cremated at her husbands pyre. In some ways, this gave him the aura of a social reformer with a special interest in women's rights and he played up this image by advocating that girls should also be educated. With that image fresh in their minds, the founders of this school named it after the Lord Bentinck - and that name has remained unchanged since 1837!

Time. And space.

Spotted this one almost by accident; was going up Purasavakkam High Road and wondering how badly lost I was when I noticed this clock tower at Doveton. The moment I saw it, I realized I'd always known about this - "Doveton Clock Tower" - though I had mentioned it as Vepery in my earlier post!

Someone told me that the clock tower at Royapettah is now maintained by P.Orr & Sons. This one does not seem to have caught the eye of any such benefactor. Even the board on top of it, saying "Corporation of Chennai" is cracked and has fallen away on three of the four sides. But it still tells you the time!

Do you have the time?

How many clock towers does Chennai have? The question popped up when I was travelling past the Royapettah clock tower a couple of days ago. I had my camera with me, so I just had to take this picture, but the question remains. How many clock towers?

I can think of others at Vepery, Mint, Triplicane (and there was one in Tambaram that was brought down to make space for the National Highway) - apart from the ones on buildings such as P.Orr or the Chennai Central station. I guess I'll try and run a (fragmented) series of the clock towers :)

I'm sure there is some history behind the building of these clock towers; yes, the utilitarian value of telling time must have been the primary purpose, but who decided that the populace of the city needs to keep track of time? Will also pick up some information and link to this post - later!