Another LIC building

If this tweet is true (and there is no reason it shouldn't be), there is little change in the Bombay Mutual Building over the past 60 years. The colours are slightly different and it has lost the words identifying it, even though you can spot traces of where they were. The building is a great example of the Art Deco aesthetic of mid-20th century Madras. 

The 'original' occupant of that space, sometime from the 1850s, was the Madras Christian College, which built the Anderson Hall as part of its presence in 'town'. When the college shifted to Tambaram, they seem to have sold, or pledged the Hall to the Travancore & Quilon National Bank in 1937, which at the time was the fourth largest bank in the country. In what should be story for another day, the T&QNB was brought down by a run on the bank, which was allegedly orchestrated by CP Ramaswamy Iyer, the then Diwan of Travancore. For our limited purposes here, this resulted in the Government of Madras auctioning off the Anderson Hall to the Bombay Mutual Insurance Company in 1938. 

After a few years, the BMIC decided it would build a fresh structure here. J.R. Davis, of the architectural firm Prynne, Abbot and Davis, who had designed the facade of the Connemara, as well as the Dare House, provided the design for this building as well. The construction was by Coromandel Engineering and the building was inaugurated by the Governor of Madras in 1955. Within a year, BMIC had been merged into the LIC of India, who are the current owners of this building; hopefully they will preserve it much better than they have done with the Bharat Insurance Building on Mount Road!

Newness!

Have you been to Chennai recently? If you haven't, then you may not know about the changes around the Chennai Central Station. The Central Square of Chennai, which is supposed to come up around the station, has started showing signs of progress. Some buildings near the station - Victoria Public Hall and Ripon Building - have had space in front of them cleared and you can get a far better sense of the grandeur of these buildings than you could earlier. 

There is still a lot of work going on around the place. The Chennai Metro still has a lot of digging and shaping to do. There is talk of a massive underground car park. The Central Square of Chennai, when it is complete, would have other buildings (the Southern Railway Headquarters, the Moore Market Complex, the Rajiv Gandhi Government General Hospital and of course, the Chennai Central Station itself) contained in its 8-acre spread. There will be other heritage buildings - or, as in the case of the Ramaswamy Mudeliar Choultry, just a vestige marking the spot - around this square. 

It would take a few years to be complete, but I hope all of this will not only provide open space for the people to chill (there are quite a few doing so these days anyway) but will also bring back the Victoria Public Hall as a performance space. From the outside, it looks much better than I remember it anytime over the past 15 years; but the inside is still very crumbly. One looks forward to taking in a show, or a lecture, at this hall before... well, 2028? 

 

Half mast

It has been over 48 hours since the ailing Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu breathed her last at a Chennai hospital, but many parts of the city seem to be in mourning still. Even the airport seemed to be deserted last evening; the usual jockeying of vehicles, to be ahead of the rest in the queue, seemed to be desultory at best.

All that was because of J. Jayalalithaa, whose impact on the country's psyche seemed disproportionate to her political presence at the national level. It is difficult for an outsider to comprehend the hold she had on the person-on-the-Tamil Nadu-street; the editorial in yesterday's The Hindu gives you glimpses of why. But it is well nigh impossible to describe an image crafted over 4 decades and more to be encapsulated into a few sheets of newsprint.

The national flag at Chennai airport is flying at half mast. That is because the state has announced a 7-day official mourning for its former Chief Minister. "Former", only because she is not around any longer. But for millions of Tamil Nadu, she will always be their "Nirandhara Mudalvar" (perennial Chief Minister)!

No more shows

There was a news report about Pilot theatre in Royapettah planning to shut down. It certainly had a lot of people groan about how standalone, single screen cinemas have become scarce and unviable, and about the romance of going for a movie in the old days. 

Pilot was certainly one of those old-world theatres. It was opened sometime in the 1950s and was going strong through the next few decades, screening English films for most of its life. Sometime in the early 2000s, though, the theatre lost its charm as a go-to place for watching movies and it was reduced to screening dubbed versions of slash-and-gore Hollywood movies which even Hollywood had forgotten about. 

Despite its recent setbacks, Pilot claims a couple of firsts to its credit. It was apparently the first widescreen in the city, and a novelty when it was inaugurated. The other was something called a 'thread-screen'; what that is, I have no idea. But those innovations were a long time ago and while there was some nostalgia, there was really little surprise about Pilot having had to shut down. But surprisingly, it seems to have got itself a new coat of paint on its facade - is there some kind of a revival in the works?

Slow day

In the background, the Pallavaram hills look on; they have seen several days in their time, and this is no different from the many they have seen. They must be very old hills, for they have been worn down to almost sea level. This is also the area where traces of a palaeolithic settlement have been found.

The slowness is seen in the parking lot of the Chennai airport in the foreground. Usually a mess of vehicles trying to go every which way, the lot seems quite sleepy - but this was last week, before the long weekend, when almost everyone had probably got to where they wanted to go!

Pass-through

At the north-eastern end of Napier Bridge is this obelisk, which, until a few days ago, was a mystery to me. It has a masonry base - and the entire structure is brick and mortar itself. The base has no indication of what it is for; as if to tease the curious passerby, there is a rectangular indentation in the base which makes it appear as if there was an intent to have a plaque there, but that the idea has been dropped and no one has bothered to fill up the space, or to finish up the rest of the column itself.

The structure seems to date back a long way. An early picture of the bridge, said to have been taken in the 1890s, shows the obelisk at its end. When I posted a picture of it a few years ago, I had tried to get the column in its entirety. It was only a few days ago that I realised I had missed the most important aspect of this structure. The thin metal rod topping the masonry.

The Napier Bridge - named for Francis Napier, the 10th Lord Napier, who was Governor of Madras between 1866 and 1872. It was during his tenure that this bridge, to connect Fort St George with the sandy strip of beach to its south, was built. At that time, there was no concrete to build a bridge with; the strongest material for such purposes was iron, and that was what was used to make a sturdy bridge. Although its concrete replacement came over 70 years ago, the Napier Bridge is still referred to as Iron Bridge. In the days when the bridge lived up to its name, the biggest threat it faced was from lightning strikes during the monsoons. That could only be removed by having a much taller attractor of electric current - and hey, presto, the mystery of the obelisk has been solved!

Big man

We have seen this man before. Here. He sits in the middle of the Peoples' Park, lording it over the grounds. This is the statue of Diwan Bahadur R. Subbayya Naidu, CIE who was Commissioner of the Corporation of Madras between 1937-40. 

Though there is not much that I have been able to find about his tenure. He seems to have been a civil servant dedicated to the Empire rather than to the people. An announcement in the Straits Times of Singapore on January 21, 1937, informs us that Subbayya Naidu was a former Agent of the Government of India in British Malaya - he certainly did get around. 

Until 2008, this statue, like the others in the park was all uniformly white. Whoever came up with this colour scheme probably thought of this man as a blue-blooded sahib!

The lady's gardens

Entering the People's Park through its southern gate, you get to see this statue - of Venus, is it? - behaving as if you are an unexpected visitor. It is quite a rarity, for it is not usual to see a bare-breasted sculpture in Chennai, outside of a few temples, in such a public location. Is this the lady of what was once called My Ladye's Garden? Most likely not, for this statue, and a few others around this park were probably set up in the 1930s, at least 70 years after the park was opened to the public. The impetus for this park was provided by Sir Charles Trevelyan, Governor of Madras between 1859-60, who was clear that the middle class of Madras needed a large, open space for recreation and entertainment. 

My Ladye's Garden was only one part of the People's Park; the entire park covered nearly 120 acres of space. A dozen lakes dotted the park, with boating facilities in at least one of them. Madras' first zoo, which was located on the grounds of the museum, moved here, taking up a sizeable chunk of the grounds. The zoo expanded over the years, adding a cheetah here, a few deer there, a couple of tigers and so on. Until it moved to the Aringar Anna Zoological Park in the mid 1980s, this was where Madras' citizens would come to see wild animals. 

Over the years, the People's Park has been nibbled away. Space for the Victoria Public Hall was allocated. The Ripon Building took up a section. The South Indian Athletic Association was given space for a pavilion and grounds. The Moore Market was accommodated. The Railways expanded, and chewed up some more space. Lily Pond Complex, that replaced Moore Market took up its share. And then the Jawaharlal Nehru Stadium came up, along with the indoor sports complex, reducing the People's Park to the My Ladye's Garden. Go too quickly on Sydenham's Road and you might miss the gate to the park. While it still remains a large - and well used - lung for this part of the city, it is certainly a comedown for the feature that defined the area, which continues to be known as Park Town!

Egg offering

The way in which the name of this temple in Mylapore is spoken conjures up a rather awkward image of its principal deity. The fast paced description of this as "முண்டகண்ணி அம்மன்" (mundakanni amman) indicates eyes in a headless form; the actual name "முண்டகக்கண்ணி அம்மன்" (mundakakanni amman) conveys more elegance, of the lotus-eyed one. That is only one of the oddities about this temple to the Goddess in the form of Saraswati. 

For starters, the temple's main deity is "svyambhu", having appeared spontaneously over 1,300 years ago. Of course, there is little evidence to support this belief, but it is agreed that it has been around for a few generations here. The sanctum is covered with a thatched roof, as it is believed that it is the best way for the Goddess to remain cool, being surrounded by natural materials. A banyan tree grows right behind the sanctum, adding to the cool of the temple. 

The banyan is also home to the nagadevatha, the snake Goddess. Devotees coming to worship Saraswati are also advised to propitiate the snakes. To this end, one can get a puja package that includes an egg - something that is taboo at almost every other temple. The egg, and milk, are offered to the snake Goddess along with flowers for the main deity!

Market model

In the evening of May 30, 1985, the city of Madras heard about a fire near the Central Station. By the next morning, the fire, supposedly set off by an electrical fault, had completely gutted an 85-year old icon of the city. More than 20 fire engines, including Simon Snorkel, had battled the blaze, but the combination of paper, cloth, vinyl and plastic made sure that the building was beyond salvage. Thus ended Moore Market, the go-to place for old books, records, clothes, pet supplies, exotic meats and pretty much everything that anyone in Madras might have a fancy for. 

In the closing years of the 19th century, an organized market for groceries, meats and other items was a dire need for the city's European (and westernized) residents. An earlier market, on Popham's Broadway, had been long marked down as being unsanitary, but no concrete action on an alternate had been taken. Enter Sir George Montgomerie John Moore, who had taken over as President of the Corporation of Madras in 1886. Though he had begun addressing this requirement in the early days of his term, the selection of a suitable site - which turned out to be a corner of the Peoples' Park near the Central Station - and clearing it up (there was a thriving Gujili Bajaar (okay, Guzili Bazaar), a grey market of second-hand, counterfeit and purloined goods operating there) took a while and it was only in 1898 that the foundation stone was laid.

Sir George was clear that apart from its functional requirements, the new market should aesthetically blend its architecture with its neighbours, Central Station to the east and Victoria Public Hall to the west. The architect chosen was R.E.Ellis and the market was built by A. Subramania Iyer. In 1890, the Governor of Madras, Sir Arthur Havelock opened the Moore Market for trade. Over the course of the 20th century, the Moore Market served the needs of a variety of Madras' citizenry, until other shopping options came up in the 1970s and 80s. Yet, Moore Market held on. The bookshops were a bibliophile's paradise and many other things beside. With that fire on a summer night, a part of Madras' soul was extinguished. 

There are many claimants to the name today. The Allikulam (அல்லி குளம் - Lily Pond) complex tries to pass off as today's Moore Market. There is a digital version somewhere. The Railways call their office complex (built where the market stood) the "Moore Market Complex (MMC)". But the original building can be seen in this faithful replica, right in the middle of the parking complex outside the Railways' MMC. The model is quite exquisite, but the way it is neglected forces one to thinking that it might meet the same fate as its original!

New building

That's the new building of the Madras Medical College. Construction was completed last year and it was then waiting for its classrooms to be furnished. Surely all of that would have been done - I hope it is ready to see students at least in the new academic year coming up.

Do you remember what was here earlier? This!

Down. And out.

There were about 50 people in the store. More than half of them were in their tweens or teens. Of the remaining, almost nine-tenths were in their mid thirties, or younger. From the conversations, it seemed that almost everyone had moved into Chennai sometime in the past five years or so. The layout was different, too. That half of the store where books used to be displayed - the 'original' Landmark - was off bounds. There were no books there, anymore. Those left over fitted into six display racks. The toys, VCDs and game cartridges filled up the rest of the space. And the shoppers were busy raiding. 50% off, and that's got the bargain hunters in. 

The old timers were staying away. There was one other shopper who engaged the store manager in conversation. "I was here on the first day you opened, you know", he said. The manager nodded, with a semi-polite half-smile. Of course he wasn't there when it opened. That was a long time ago. The store manager must have been eligible for a half-ticket at Safire when Hemu Ramaiah set up this store. She made sure that once you get down the steps and past the door on the right, you could transport yourself to a different world - or worlds. It didn't feel like half-a-basement at all. One could sit there all day and browse - yes, browse. In the days before Netscape Navigator, Hemu's Landmark would take you all over the wide world. 

Landmark was then a break from the past, but now, a throwback to another era. No bookstore before it tolerated anyone - school and college kids the least of all - flipping through their books. And here was the staff practically shoving a book into your hands and telling you to take your time reading it. It is difficult to believe that for 19 of the 26 years it has been around, the store has been competing against the Internet. The memories of those first seven years were strong enough for many to turn up again and again at the first Landmark store, now spread across the entire basement of Apex Plaza. Indra Nooyi, it is said, used to make it a point to spend a couple of hours here every time she visited Madras/Chennai. She was only one of the many non-residents - Madrasis or otherwise - for whom the Nungambakkam Landmark was the place to visit. And browse. And browse.

The first time I bought a set of greeting cards from Landmark, I did not realize that I was taking the first step to losing the bookstore of my college days. Greeting cards were followed by other stationery items. Then came CDs. Toys. Games. Suddenly, books seemed to be an "also there" item. And then the Tatas bought the chain, in 2005. India's best bookstore, born of passion, boosted by the quiz, sustained by the loyalty of its Madras customers (who spread the word about it to their friends in Pune, Bengaluru and other places) had now completely transformed into a 'business'. The staff didn't know their books. (Or even music, or toys, for that matter). But they still let customers visitors browse through the books, and the Nungambakkam store was the best place to do that. 

Now it is gone. When the bargain hunters have cleared it out ("50% off!!" "Everything must go!!!"), I shall also be gone. I did not intend to walk into the store yesterday, but I did. And I picked up a few books, at random. I only had a vague idea of what I was doing, because memories of 26 years obscured the actions of the day. My eyes were moist; I could not look at the girl at the billing counter, who asked me if I had a loyalty card. "I am turning it in today", I thought. I suddenly felt very old. Good bye, Landmark. You've taken my youth with you.

An arc, a covenant

India observes Martyr's Day today, in memory of "such a one that ever walked the earth in flesh and blood", so it is rather appropriate to celebrate another martyr, though of a cause which may be much lesser and yet, much more.

William Lambton was in his mid-40s, having made a name for himself as a geographer and a geodesist during the determination of the border between USA and Canada after the American War of Independence. By 1799, he was back in India, as Lieutenant Lambton, having taken part in the success of the British in the Anglo-Mysore War. Though his initial proposal was to survey the newly acquired territories of Mysore, he quickly expanded its scope to cover a much larger area. But even at that time, it is doubtful that Lambton could have imagined the enormity of the project. Originally planned to be done in five years, it took 60 years for it to be closed. And it changed the face of the earth, quite literally, justifying its name as the "Great Indian Trigonometrical Survey". It was a project that mapped the entire subcontinent, using theodolites, triangulation and trigonometric tables. In the course of its progress, it 'discovered' the Chomolungma mountain, the highest point on land. That point, designated as Peak XV during the survey, was named after Lambton's successor as Survey Superintendent: the world knows it today as Mount Everest.

And that's how Mount Everest connects with Chennai's own St Thomas' Mount. That Great Indian Trigonometrical Survey began on April 10, 1802, with the first measurement from the top of St Thomas' Mount. The man who conceptualised it, Col William Lambton, spent the second half of his life in the field, making the survey happen. If we take the inscription on the pedestal of his bust at St Thomas' Mount as being accurate, Lambton was 80 when he died on January 30, 1833. Many other biographies date his death to 1823. Whatever be the case, Col Lambton had initiated such a compelling endeavour that the East India Company and later the British crown funded it until it was completed. 

Col Lambton's bust at the top of St Thomas' Mount is a tribute to the survey itself, as much as it is to him. The next time you go up on to the mountain, make sure you spare a moment for this man!

What crowd?

If I told you this photo was taken almost directly opposite Chennai Central station, you would probably call me crazy. It is one of the quietest spots you can find on that stretch of Poonamallee High Road; chances are, however, that you've rushed past this building without thinking of what lies inside.

The Ramasamy Mudeliar Choultry has a pretty big yard, once you get inside the gate. It was also the place where the Hop-On-Hop-Off buses used to start from (wonder where they are, now?). And inside is the (probably) only statue of the man who gave a lot to the city where he made his fortune.

Go inside, see it for yourself. And be happy that even in the middle of all the rush, Chennai still has oases of Silence and slow Time!

First school

The modest entrance does not do justice to what is the country's first institutionalized school for the fine arts. Though there were groups of artists following a particular style and sensibility of painting and sculpture practicing in different parts of India, they were more like guilds than educational institutions. It was in Madras that the first formal teaching institution for the fine arts, the Madras School of Arts, was established in 1850. 

Unlike many other institutions that came up in those days, this has moved only once. It began life as a private institution, set up by Dr. Alexander Hunter, who thought of it as a commercial venture, and instruction was more about imitating ethnic products to be shipped out to Europe. Finding it difficult to maintain the quality of instruction because of its 'private' status, Hunter agreed to stay on as the Principal and allowed the government to take over the school. Renaming it Government School of Industrial Arts, the authorities moved it away from Popham's Broadway to its current location on Poonamallee High Road. 

The Madras School has been a pioneer, especially in recognizing that fine arts went beyond painting and sculpture. Photography, as a course of instruction, was introduced as early as 1855; the work done by the students has been collected into 17 volumes of photographs of Madras and its surroundings. These are still available in the college library - but you would have a hard time identifying even one of them in its current location!

Brand launch

Was at a book launch this evening, at the Landmark store in Chennai Citi Centre. It wasn't one of your regular books - this was about how 'SuperStar' has evolved to be a brand and about what product brands can learn from the 'SuperStar'. Titled 'Grand Brand Rajini', it connects different aspects of the man to the field of Brand Management.

On stage (right) are the two authors, PC Bala Subramanian and Ram N. Ramakrishnan. With the mike is the chief guest, a star in his own right, is Balki, Chairman and Chief Creative Officer of Lowe Lintas (India). Balki was pointing out how 'SuperStar' has becoming a brand by staying true to himself and thereby true to what his 'consumers' expected from him. 

That view was echoed by the fourth person on stage - Lata Rajinikanth, who talked about how the 'SuperStar' was as a person. Anecdotes that only burnished the shine of the 'SuperStar'. With such a launch, I'm sure the book will be a grand success!

Quiet house

The Tamizh name for the locality of Chetpet does not inspire confidence; "சேத்துபட்டு " sounds more like a marshy area that one would not like to venture into. The more generally accepted origin of that name is that this pleasant - and at one time scenic - stretch along the western bank of the Cooum was a favourite of the Chettiar community. As they prospered in their trading, they began to move out of the busy George Town area into the bucolic environs of the riverside. Chetpet, it is believed, evolved from 'Chettiar Pettai'.

One of the most prominent among those Chetties was T. Namberumal Chetty, the 'master builder' of later 19th-century Madras. It is said that he had at one time 99 bungalows across Madras, most of them in Chetpet; he believed that the 100th would bring him bad luck. More superstitious than him was the mathematician Ramanujan. When Ramanujan got to know that he was moving to Chetpet from Triplicane, his first response was to say that it was to make him go away "சட்டுப் புட்டு" ("chattu-puttu", meaning very briskly).

Ramanujan was convinced that the move to Chetpet would be good for him. Namberumal Chetty put one of his bungalows, named Crynant at his disposal. Again, the cynic in Ramanujan came to the fore: "என்ன அழுமூஞ்சியா இருக்கு! Cry-nant, that is a bad omen" said he. Namberumal moved him to another of his houses, Gometra, a short distance from Crynant, which was where Ramanujan breathed his last. Gometra is also no more. Crynant, in the picture, remains pretty much as it was almost a hundred years ago. The gate post continues to show the name T. Namberumal. Most probably the builder's descendants continue to live in this bungalow!

Throwing some light

Of course you know all about Chennai's lighthouses. But I did not realize until quite recently that the lighthouse on the Marina is still called the Madras Lighthouse, making it one of the few institutions that have not - and hopefully never will - changed over to the Chennai nomenclature. 

It is not just this lighthouse. The stretch of lighthouses along the peninsula, from Kovilthottam in the Kollam district of Kerala on the west coast to the one at Pulicat just north of Chennai falls under the jurisdiction of what is called the Madras District. Says who, you ask? It is the Directorate General of Lighthouses and Lightships, that's who. The Madras District is one of the four that are headed by a Deputy Director General; the others being Jamnagar, Kolkata and Headquarters. 

Kolkata district has had its name changed from the former Calcutta. So too has Bombay, changed to Mumbai. But then, neither of them has a lighthouse named after the city - and that should make Madras stay on for a long while!

Mom 'n' pop

It is quite literally the corner shop. And it is one where the shopkeepers stay on the floor above their shop. To top it all, it is called 'Amma Naana', which translates as 'Mother and Father'. If there is one independent retailer who is not quaking at the thought of FDI in retail, it must be this store on Chamiers Road. 

Flashback to a little over 40 years ago. At the turn of the '70s, the shop in the corner was called Fairlands and was operating on rented premises. When they got the chance to occupy a much larget space just next door, Fairlands moved out of the 1200 sqft storefront they were using. The owners of the newly vacated storefront offered it to their son-in-law, V.R. Govindaswamy, who stocked it up with merchandise that would interest residents of the affluent Boat Club area, right behind the store. 

Over the past dozen years or so, Amma Naana has shown that it has hit the bulls-eye with that strategy. Boat Club attracted the professional expatriate who came in to Chennai in the late 90s, with large pockets and a taste for 'world class' products. Amma Naana stocked the brands they were familiar with, either from their home country or those that were known world over; brands that were unavailable in the regular market in India. Long before Starbucks made its India entry (last week), you could buy their Mocha Frappe - and other coffees - from Amma Naana. 

Amma Naana continues to remain independent and single-store. They continue to shut the store down on Sunday afternoons. And it continues to be the go-to place for the fresh-off-the-boat expat in Chennai, to get those familiar packages for her kitchen!

Another town, another temple(s)

Chintadripet - the name evolving from chinna thari pettai (சின்ன தறி பேட்டை), the 'village of small looms' - was one of the earliest 'planned' localities of Madras. As the name suggests, it was also heavily involved in the clothe trade that Madras was founded upon. Whereas the first wave of weavers, dyers, washermen and the like, who were brought in by Beri Thimmappa, were settled to the north of Fort St George grouped by their work or caste, Chintadripet was intended to be a more mixed locality. 

However, there was one aspect of the older locale that was incorporated into the new settlement as well. Audiappa Narayana Chetty ('Vennala Narran Chitty', as the British said) was one of the two dubashes administering the settlement. He brought in the 'Town Temple' concept and replicated the Chenna Kesavaperumal and Chenna Malleswarar in Chintadripet. The idols of both Adhi Kesava Perumal and Adhipureeswarar are installed in this complex - and inside, Adhi Lakshmi has a separate shrine of her own.

Going through the pushing and shoving of the crowds of Chintadripet, you'd little expect to find such an oasis of calm. Most of the structures in the temple are from its origins, in the mid-1700s. The newest one seems to be that green door on the left, to house the temple car; and its date is recorded as 1901. You can be sure of going back in time inside this temple!