Had a bite?

There was a sister sign to this one, extolling all the virtues of this antidote for scorpion 'bite'. This medicine only uses scorpions as a prop for striking up a conversation, for there is nothing it can't solve, World Peace included.

It is the Theme Day over at the CityDailyPhoto portal; I was thinking I should have saved up the one warning you about the lady of the house or the other one, about "Conditions Apply". This sign can't hold a candle to them in terms of mysteriousness, being very open and straightforward about what's on offer. Yet, it is a unique enough sign to qualify for the Theme Day!


Click here to view thumbnails for all participants

Missing the 'I'

A few years ago, some additions were made to the Chennai Egmore station, on its western side. They were the latest in a series of additions that were made to the buildings of this station, which traces its origins to more than a century ago. In those days - the station was opened in 1908 - it is said to have cost Rs.17 lakh to build and between Henry Irwin (the designer) and Samynada Pillai (the builder), they managed to work in some Dravidian elements into the structure. The original lobby and porch on the eastern side thus set a pattern which was not broken in the later additions to the buildings, in the 1930s as well as in the 1980s.



The newest addition, on the western side also remains largely true to the original style of construction. But if you've ever glanced up at the bas-relief crest on the eastern side, you'll notice a difference here. On the western side, the builders have strayed just a little bit. While they have retained the elephant motif of the eastern face - that was probably part of the logo of the South Indian Railway - but they have been unfaithful to the letters. The 'I', which is present in the older version (though painted over to merge with the background, now) is missing here.



Maybe that's the way it should be - future generations can argue about how the S.I.R. became the S.R. - and that's a story for another post!

Let them pass

A couple of years ago, we were allowed inside the OTA for a few hours. We wandered around, looking at the birds, the trees and the flowers inside the campus - at least those parts that we were escorted around to.

As we were walking out, we had to wait to let cadet officers - both gentlemen and lady cadets - march past us. Been a long time since one heard the synchronised crunch of marching boots!

Everyday antique?

It is said that the first 'irons' to press wrinkles out of cloth were used in China in the 1st century BCE. But when they began to appear in the western world of the 17th century CE, they had forsaken the Chinese technology and were instead being heated from the outside. After a while, it was accepted that the Chinese had got it right and charcoal irons, boxes with heavy plates at the bottom and a hinged lid that had a handle attached became the standard design.

A certain Mary Florence Potts of Iowa made some improvements to the earlier, externally heated 'sadirons'. She first had the baseplate pointed at both ends, which enabled the sadiron to be moved back and forth, rather than in just one direction. Further, she patented a 'detachable handle' design and sold her product as a set of 3 sadirons and one detachable handle - with that, one of the irons was always being heated up, one was cooling down and the third was being put to use all the time.

These days, of course, electric irons with thermostats and internal heating elements have replaced the charcoal iron almost everywhere. Yet, a sight that would not be out of place at Gochsheim Castle (reputed to have the largest collection of over 1300 historical irons) is played out in several areas of Chennai every morning, when the local iron-man sets up his practice for the day. The flames leaping out from the maw of the appliance remind us that for all our modernity, our clothes continue to depend upon a technology that's been around for over 2000 years!

Hooked!

I used to wonder why his blog hadn't been updated for a long time; a couple of weeks ago, I knew the reason why (at least, that's what I think the reason must have been). And today, Samanth Subramanian's first book, "Following Fish: Travels Around the Indian Coast" had its Chennai launch. It was indeed fitting that the launch was at Landmark, for it was at Landmark's annual quiz, several years ago that I'd first met Samanth. In the years since, he has made that quiz more or less his own, becoming - for the city's quizzers at least - a legend himself.

Though I haven't read the entire book yet, I'm sure I'll like it. Those parts I rushed through (I had some vague thoughts of asking profound questions at the launch) made for easy, yet insightful, reading. I was slightly taken aback when I saw a Hyderabad based story - when was that city last on the beach? Despite the fish connection, it seemed a little out of place, but with some biographical background, I thought it was probably as close as this author would get to talking about himself in the book. And Samanth's confession that this one was indeed the story closest to his heart validated that thought.

It was, however, the toddy shop story that was first excerpted in the Mint a couple of weeks ago. And I just couldn't resist this picture of the author with the toddy shop.... !

No way out

The building may be 97 years old, but the fencing around it, and its gates, are possibly much younger. In 1913, when Ripon Building was opened to house the Corporation of Madras, the

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Mount Abu in Madras

Many believe that the best marble monument in India is not the Taj Mahal, but rather, the Dilwara Temples near Mount Abu in Rajasthan, sacred to Jains. It was from these temples that the Jains who had settled in Madras drew architectural inspiration from for their newer temple in the city.

Though the structure is new, worship at this particular site is not. The Chandra Prabhu Bhagawan Naya Jain Mandir, on Mint Street, was built at the same spot where one of Madras' oldest Jain temples, the Swetambar Jain Temple, stood. As with the other temples of the tirthankaras, the sanctum sanctorum is elevated from the ground level. Here, the main deity is Chandra Prabhu, the 8th tirthankara. Built largely of limestone, with accents in marble, it is both completely different (from the grey granite, or the gaily coloured gopurams) and similar (to other Jain temples everywhere).

Also, just as many other places of worship do, this temple also offers free food every day - only, in keeping with Jain traditions, the food is entirely free of spices, oil and even salt!

Bridge at the edge

The road does not climb - or drop, if you will - when you go across this bridge and yet, there is a feeling of leaving something behind. Heading out south of the city, the Marmalong Bridge (before it became Maraimalai Adigalar Bridge) marked the end of Madras in the early '70s. All on a sudden, there were no buildings, more greenery and one could see clear across for a very long distance. There was the other bridge over the railway tracks at Guindy, but by then, the city was far behind.

More than 30 years later, the Maraimalai Adigalar Bridge can be thought of as just another point on Mount Road; although there is still some greenery beyond the bridge, straight down to the Raj Bhavan, the buildings on the right proclaim it a part of Chennai. Still, it was almost 300 years ago that the first bridge was built here, so give us some time to believe it is not the city's boundary any longer!

Grease to silk

In the first few years of the 20th century, the then decade-old Anjuman-e-Himayath-e-Islam (AHI) wanted a building where the orphan children from around the vicinity of the Wallajah Mosque could be trained in some trade or the other. For this purpose, they built this red-sandstone structure, where the lower level was the training centre-cum-workshop and the truly indigent students were housed on the upper floor. In the 1930s, the AHI, guided by Justice Basheer Ahmad Sayeed, acquired a much larger parcel of land; by 1947, they had moved out of this building.

Enter the Mahtanis. Most likely as a consequence of partition, young Gobind Mahtani reached Madras from Hyderabad (Sind, Pakistan), to join his uncle. With the additional management bandwidth, the Mahtanis moved their small silk garments business to these premises, taking over the entire ground floor. The first floor was then taken up by India Coffee House. Maybe it was the coffee, maybe it was the clothes - the building became a meeting place for the men-about-town, who would pick up their clothes at India Silk House and then saunter up to the India Coffee House for a cuppa, and much conversation. When the Coffee Board decided to close down the Madras outlet of the India Coffee House, the Mahtanis were ready to expand and they took over the vacant space to start their furnishings division.

Today, this landmark is tucked away in a crook of Mount Road's curve; one hopes the Mahtanis are able to hold on to this heritage structure against the onslaught of all kinds of modernisation happening on Mount Road!

Summer fruit

Yes, it did rain a bit a few days ago, but the heat is very much back in business. The mangoes are not early this year (the ones that have come so far are best left untasted) and the city dweller seems to have given up his preference for jack-fruit.

The watermelon continues to be a favourite, both as a solid and a liquid - here are a few of the fruits stacked up at the Koyambedu market!

Same difference?

Wandering around Royapuram a few weeks ago, I came across this store. The name was intriguing, even if the other signboards were pretty much the regular bakery stuff that can be seen anywhere in Chennai.

Unfortunately, I was disappointed inside the bakery as well. I'm not sure what kind of Persian delights I was expecting, but it seemed to have all the same breads, buns and biscuits that could be found in any old bakery. Or maybe the New Persian Bakery is very discriminating about who it serves the genuine Persian stuff to; must try to get friendly with the folks there and find out if there are indeed trays of zulbia or halva kept hidden for regular patrons!

Leaving town

One of the good things about the Chennai Moffusil Bus Terminus (CMBT) at Koyambedu is that its buildings cover less than 1% of the area it is located in. That gives it, at least in theory, a lot of scope for expansion. Built in 2002 and expected to cater to the rise in traffic demand until 2015, this is supposedly the largest bus terminus in Asia. Though Shanghai's Zhixin terminus also stakes a claim to that distinction, their numbers don't support the claim: the CMBT's 2000 arrivals/departures daily is much higher than Zhixin's 600 - 1200 range and the number of passengers is also higher by a similar factor.

Now, with plans to build a 3000-slot parking lot for 2-wheelers, it is likely that all the traffic density forecasts will be hit for a six - and then we'll have to look for a new bus station soon!

Wraparound

Last month, there was a minor furore when the Emirate of Sharjah banned lungis in public places. The lungi is a comfortable garment, one that is still worn daily by millions, even though its popularity has fallen a bit in recent times. In its heydey, the lungi was not mere casual, lolling-around-the-house-wear. Though in the land of its birth, the lungi remained at the bottom of the sartorial scale, it was a prized posession in the countries it was exported to. With its strong, check-patterns in bold colours, it provided that extra spiff to the starched white shirts worn over it. Malaya, Ceylon, Siam - places where the lungi morphed into the sarong, were countries that the garment was introduced by the Dutch or the Portugese.

Many of these countries referred to the lungi as 'Palayakat'. One school of thought is that the word is a corruption of Pazhaverkadu (now called Pulicat), north of Chennai, where the Dutch had their fortress before the British presence on the Coromandel coast. These simple rectangles of cloth were probably the central players of a brand-building (okay, category-building) exercise a couple of centuries ago. The British varied the dimensions of these rectangles, or converted them into running lengths, and popularised them as 'Madras Checks' in its colonies, including the ones in America. Palayakat is a forgotten term now - certainly in Chennai, where lungi still holds sway, but companies behind the popular old brands still use the term: like Sangu-mark lungi-gal, which is a brand of The Madras Palayakat Company.

There could be another story of origin for the word, however. It could have originated from 'palasar-e-kattu', 'palasar' being the manner of tying the veshti, urging the users of the humble lungi to wear it like its more formal counterpart!

By the yard?

Though it has been referred to as 'metre coffee' many a time, I don't think I've ever asked for it by that name; indeed, I don't think any Chennaiite would think of it as such, for the term has almost always been dropped by visitors to this city. In specialty restaurants across India, some waiters serve South Indian coffee with a flourish, pouring it from one tumbler to another in such a way that the hot liquid falls a height equal to the waiter's armspans - well, that's close to a metre and surely an apt description.

Not that a visitor to Chennai would be disappointed if he asks for coffee at the roadside stall. The vendor would pour all liquids in the same fashion, raising one vessel as far as his arm can stretch. Maybe the distance travelled cools down the milk, but then, what is the point, if it is going to go back into the boiling pot, anyway!

Read this, please

Born as Kuppuswamy Iyer at Pattamadai, he went on to study medicine, which he practiced in Malaya as the head of an 'Estate Hospital' there. Struck with a feeling there was more to helping people than just curing illnesses, Kuppuswamy gave up his position and travelled to Rishikesh. By the time he was 40, Kuppuswamy had been Swami Sivananda for nearly 4 years. After a further decade of travelling around India as a wandering monk, Swami Sivananda established the Divine Life Society on the banks of the Ganga at Rishikesh. Since its founding in 1936, the Divine Life Society has grown both within and outside India.

On the occasion of his birth centenary in 1987, Madras city named a road after him, turning Adams Road into Swami Sivananda Salai. A statue of the saint was set up at the eastern end of the road, just where it joins Kamaraj Salai. Somehow, the statue seems to be of a roadside bookseller, pressing his wares on the passer-by. True, Swami Sivananda wrote close to 300 books, but he is to be remembered for much more than that.

At the western end of Swami Sivananda Salai, there was (is it there still?) a statue of Lord Ampthill, who was Governor of Madras between 1901 and 1906. I'm not sure if it was planned that way, or if it is just coincidence; one of Kuppuswamy's first forays into the public eye was in 1901, when, as a 14-year old, he sang a song to welcome the newly appointed Governor of Madras at the Kumarapuram railway station!

I'm back, on the monthly Theme Day for the City Daily Photo community. To see photos of statues from cities around the world, check this link out!

Rare, very rare

Can't think of too many 'theme' restaurants in Chennai; Sparky's Diner may be one only because there is no other diner, there are (were?) a couple of movie-themed restaurants a while ago, but the list more or less ends there.

And yes, there was (is?) the Rainforest in Adayar where the sounds of thunder and rain were supposedly more exciting than the food. The Cave, which opened about 6 months ago on Mount Road seems to be from the same folks who came up with Rainforest. Themed as a pre-Stone Age eatery, it certainly let's you know that right at the entrance - the gorilla and assorted monkeys sharing cliff-space with what's meant to be a stone age man. It seems to be that they've got the food part better this time around.

I prefer my meat very well done, though!

Lone star

Just across the Binny headquarters on Erabalu Chetty Street is this "Star House", the Zonal Office of the Bank of India. The current holder of that title is the fourth to be so named - the other three of course died out long before this one was started.

The star logo of the bank was redesigned in 2006 to mark the centenary year of the bank. And thanks to that, this building has a crown that can be seen from quite a distance away!

Assemble here!

If you were in Chennai last Saturday - the 13th - you could not have missed the inauguration of the new Legislative Assembly and Secretariat building complex. After 53 years, the Tamil Nadu Legislative Assembly met again within the Government - now named the Omandurar - Estate, having spent those years meeting at Fort St George.

It is the first Legislative Assembly in the country to be awarded the LEED-Gold Certification; that's not the highest level of 'Green-ness' for buildings. But it missed (or rather, opted to not go for) the LEED-Platinum certification for 2 reasons: using an air-cooled system for CO2 monitoring, which consumes more energy than a water-cooled system and having bright facade lights, keeping in mind security and aesthetic concerns.

But even then they can switch off the lights in the daytime can't they!

The 'Old Pagoda'

There is apprently a reference to this temple going back to 1652, but I have not been able to find that. However, James Talboys Wheeler, in his 'Madras in the Olden Time: 1702 - 1727' refers to a document "signed by President Baker, Agent Greenhill and Mr. Gurney dated in the year 1652", concerning the settlement of a dispute between the Right-Hand- and Left-Hand-Castes in the area north of Fort St George. That document names this temple as "Malley Carjun's old Pagoda", the use of the adjective supporting the claim that the temple is more than 500 years old.

Legends of the temple founding date it to between 800 and 1000 years ago: the discovery of a Siva lingam in the midst of a jasmine (malli) garden - apparently this area was thick with them - led to the construction of this temple. Today, the area is thick with various business establishments; many with tiny, one room offices, keeping the wheels of commerce moving through from the port to the city and beyond. In the midst of all that hubbub, the Mallikeswarar temple on Linghi Chetty Street is an oasis of serenity. In the past few years, the rajagopuram, built by a devotee in 1923 has been renovated and the teakwood temple car has also been restored; in 2008, the car went out on its festival run, after a gap of 58 years.

But if it is the 'Mallikeswarar' temple, how did it get corrupted as "Mally Carjun's Pagoda"? That's a riddle which will have to wait for another day!

Navroj mubarak!

Today is the day of the vernal equinox; and a day when Parsis celebrate Navroj (or Navroze), their New Year. A very happy Navroj to Chennai's small population of Parsis (between 200 to 300 of them).

I'm sure they'll be celebrating this Navroj with more than the usual celebrations, for 2 reasons: firstly, because this is the first one after the UNESCO included Navroj on the List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in 2009 and secondly, closer home in Chennai, this year marks the centenary of the Jal Phiroj Clubwala Dar-e-Meher (the Fire Temple) of Chennai.

Here's a detail from that temple: Faravahar, a symbol reminding us that the purpose of life is to live in such a way that the soul progresses towards union with the supreme divinity!

Where are they?

The first ever World House Sparrow Day celebrated today seeks to put the spotlight on the plight of these little chappies, mainly because it is assumed they are in no danger of dying out. They were all over Chennai, once upon a time. Today, they are to be seen only in a few localities, places where urban development, in a sense, has remained where it was about a generation ago - like Linghi Chetty Street, where today's picture was taken.

The fall of the house sparrow (Passer domesticus) has been attributed to several factors, from modern buildings not having the eaves preferred as nesting sites by the sparrows, to microwave radiation from cell-phone towers. Some of them seem reasonable but some border the consipiracy-theory category. This is not just a Chennai-only phenomenon, but really a global concern; as yet, the IUCN does not regard the P. domesticus as being a 'vulnerable' species, though they acknowledge that the population trend is declining. Researchers too are hard pressed to come up with an explanation that covers all the facts, especially when many still believe that the house sparrows continue to be as common as it was during their childhood - even if they can't remember having seen them near their apartment.

One reason, from a Chennai newspaper a few years ago: "With diminishing tolerance among the younger generation, sparrows are denied entry into houses to nest and breed. People even enlist expert opinion on how best to get rid of nesting sparrows." Well, they did create a lot of noise and a bit of mess in our house during my childhood, but I'd rather take that than have these little birds go extinct!

Hello, strangers

Three boys, posing for the camera in front of what was once the Crown Theatre on Mint Street.

I know little else about them - unlike my friend Ram, who runs the other daily photo blog on Chennai (and who runs a once-a-week post on 'People'), I take very few pictures of people that I normally have no idea who they are!

No more dynasties

As early as 1947, the Government of Madras entered the business of providing bus services, introducing a fleet of 30 buses in Madras city. In the early 1950s, the government imposed its monopoly on the city's bus services. The takeover of private bus services in the rest of the state was pursued more vigourously in the late 1960s: the policy of "progressive nationalisation", as it was called, first resulted in the long-distance services becoming state-owned in 1967. In 1972, four more corporations were formed, to run bus services in four cities of the state.

They were named very aptly: the three dynasties which reigned during the golden age of the region gave their names to the transport corporations of their former capitals - Pandyan for Madurai, Cheran for Coimbatore and Chozhan for Thanjavur. Though a lesser dynasty, the Pallavas were renowned enough for their name to be bestowed upon Madras' service; and so, in 1972, the Pallavan Transport Corporation was formed, as a company, rather than a government department. For almost 20 years, these four - and the Thiruvalluvar Transport Corporation, handling long distance services - were the only companies providing transport services. In the late 1980s, however, politicians began splitting these corporations and naming them after lesser lights. A spate of such renaming in the 1990s saw the state having 19 such. The last straw was when the Virudhunagar Division of the Pandyan Transport Corporation was spun off as 'Veeran Sundaralingam Transport Corporation' in 1997 - mobs aggrieved that their idol (whoever that was) was overlooked in favour of Sundaralingam burnt the buses with his name - a spree that went on for quite a few days, until the government decided that enough was enough.

So now, the state has 7 Corporations: the Metropolitan Transport Corporation (MTC) which handles Chennai, the State Express Transport Corporation which handles long-distance services and 5 variants of the Tamilnadu State Transport Corporation (Villupuram, Kumbakonam, Madurai, Salem and Coimbatore). For many Chennai residents, the buses of the city are still PTC - for Pallavan Transport Corporation, even though that connection remains only in the name of the MTC's headquarters - Pallavan Illam, seen in this photo!

The second lighthouse

If you think the column in the foreground is a completely un-functional piece of work, you would probably be right. The major functional element of this column used to be what was on top of it; 120 feet above the ground was housed the arrangement of Argand Lamps and reflectors, supplied by Chance Brothers of Birmingham, flashing signals to the traffic on the Madras Roads.


Much taller than its predecessor on top of the Fort Museum, this Doric column lighthouse was designed by Capt J.E.Smith. It took about 6 years to build it and it became fully operational in 1844, although it was in intermittent use as early as 1841. The column was placed in the Esplanade, outside the walls of Fort St George. A photograph taken circa 1855 shows the lighthouse with its crown; a crown that was given up to the city's third lighthouse in 1894!

Breaking the pattern

The otherwise regular pattern of buildings along Mount Road is broken by this facade opposite the LIC building. Must say the building is rather photogenic, it certainly looks better in the picture than it does in reality - does startle you for a moment when you see it suddenly!

Patron saint

In the early 18th century, a few families of Durgarayapatnam heard about the wonderful opportunities for boatmen who were ready to risk the surf at Madras and handle the ship to shore traffic for the traders. And so they came, to stay in the shadow of the new Fort St George, bringing in cargo and crew from the Madras Roads to the fort. Over the next few years, many of them turned to fishing, while other families joined them. By the 1740s, these seafaring people had thrown in their lot so much with the British that when the French took over Fort St George in 1746, the Chepauk community moved to Fort St David (at Cuddalore) with the British and then helped the British navy in their quest to re-possess Madras.

Fort St George's gratitude had a good memory; when changes were made in the way goods were delivered on the Madras shore, the fishermen - and other 'boat-people' had to move. To compensate for the move, Fort St George granted them about 45 acres of land further north of the fort. The fisherfolk moved there in 1799, built a church for St. Peter, their patron saint. In 1824, they decided that their church was to be re-built - the revised version was consecrated in 1829.

With the new church came disputes over ownership. It was only in 1867 that the Madras High Court handed it over to a board of trustees set up by ecclesiastical authorities. Since then, the church has been developed - the structure seen here is not so old, but the church itself has been around in some form or the other since 1799 - giving name to the area: Royapuram, for Rayappar, the Tamizh name for Peter!

Chennai Super Kings!

Oh, well, it is just a photo-of-a-photo. The photo was on the wall at the office of ShowSpace, who were managing Chennai Super Kings. It is a picture that dates back almost two years, to the first season of IPL, but hey, I'm off to watch today's match, so enjoy the colours here - if you aren't at the stadium already!

Local bank

Ever since I learnt that the man's first job was with this firm, I couldn't pass this building without thinking about Sir Pelham Grenville Wodehouse. One reason could be that it was definitely more English looking than its neighbours, being in the Edwardian style rather than the Indo-Saracenic which is more common along Rajaji Salai. The effect is heightened by the gleaming white exteriors, contrasting with the red-brick of its neighbours, especially the Chennai GPO and the State Bank of India buildings.

Though the building was completed in 1923, HSBC got its hands on it only in 1959, as part of the takeover of the Mercantile Bank of India, which had its offices here. The site itself has an older provenance, having been the offices of 'The Mail', one of the earliest daily newspapers of Madras!

Where elephants dared?

Once called 'Anaikara Konan Street', the name was shortened after references to caste were removed from public names. Because it is close to the Elephant Gate, it is easy to figure this as having been the place where the mahouts gathered.

But then again, it might have been anything else - street names sometimes lack logic, you see!

Escaping the heat?

Chennai is moving towards its 'hotter' season and folks are already getting tired out, thinking of ways to beat the heat this year. Such thoughts are undoubtedly a common thread we have with the city's yesteryear residents. One such must have had this building as the ultimate answer to the Madras summer - in rather grand style, it is named 'Summer House'.

Coming up just before Zam Bazar, on Bharathi Salai (Pycrofts Road), there is not much else around to indicate who the house belongs (belonged) to or why it was thought of as merely a seasonal residence!

Break journey

Looking at the time this picture was taken - 0833 hrs - I assumed that the Chennai Central was experiencing that slight lull when the first rush of the morning's work has given way to thought about that cup of coffee.

However, there is no real break worth its name for more than 15 minutes at Chennai Central; trains are either coming or going at all hours of the day, except between 2345 when the last trains for the day leave (the Ahilyanagari Express, Raptisagar Express and the Korba-Thiruvananthapuram Express) and 0215 when the first trains (Chandigarh-Chennai Express and Dehra Dun - Chennai Express) arrive.

The lack of crowds at this time was probably a freak phenomenon; like one of those ghost traffic-jams, a ghost break-in-the-journey!

Peeking in, peeking out

Kids at the entrance of the Thirusoolanathar-Tirupurasundari temple, trying to find out what is happening with all the photography. In the distance, one of the peaks of the Pallavaram hills.

Curtain raiser

It is the newest of the city's concert spaces, but it is more than a just a stage. With a grand semi-circular frontage, Sir Mutha Venkatasubba Rao Concert Hall offers a great venue for performances. Within two years of being open to the public, it has become the venue of choice for not only concerts, but for art exhibitions and any kind of performance in general.

The superb acoustics of the hall are complemented by the excellent equipment. Comfy seats let you enjoy the performance without having to twist and turn for that correct positioning. And there is adequate space for parking - the advantage of being able to use the space of the Lady Andal School after hours.

And though I haven't had a chance to see one such yet, the hall has a provision for providing 'surtitles' - projected on the stage, above the performance space - to enable translations of plays into another language, should it be required!

Lonesome George

Under the pretext of easing traffic flow around the new Assembly complex being constructed on Mount Road, the magnificent statue of King Edward VII which was there has been carted away. Even more mindlessly, and shamefully, the statue of King George V near the War Memorial was also hacked off - both father and son are now covered in sackcloth and dumped somewhere on the grounds of the Government Museum. Sad.

The argument that the statues were reminders of the dark period of imperialism may have been valid at some time, but both Eddie and George had become part of the city's landscape over the years. If nothing else, the statues were much easier on the eye than several others that had come up at various street corners.

Now, the only statue of King George V that remains is the one on NSC Bose Road. Presumably, it has been left standing because it was put up by public demand and sponsored by Govindadoss Chatoorbhoojadoss, who was Sheriff of Madras in 1914 when this statue was unveiled. Today it stands alone - but keeping a watchful eye on all the vehicles around!

Half-a-dozen names

Founded in 1869 by the Maharaja of Vizianagaram and funded by Sir P.S.Sivaswami Ayyar sometime in 1918, this school has gone through five names and is currently on its sixth. It is quite likely this name would not be changed and the school will continue to be known by its current name - Lady Sivaswami Ayyar Girls' Higher Secondary School.

Some say that Sir Sivaswami Ayyar sold his house to finance this school; there doesn't seem to be any direct link between the one and the other. However, it does appear that the money he bequeathed to this school came, at least in part, from the proceeds of selling his bungalow, Sudharma, to the Amalgamations group.

The names this school has carried over the last 140 years reflect its benefactors - the Maharaja of Vizianagaram initially and then, the name of the Society which has been in charge of running this school - The National Boys' and Girls' Education Society, Mylapore. It is only after Sir Sivaswami Ayyar's death in 1946 that the school was named after his wife - a name that has now lasted for 64 years with just a minor change!

They get their man!

This is truly an image from another era; maybe even forty years ago, the sight of policemen on horseback would have been enough to deter a miscreant in the mob. Their vantage point, looking over the heads and shoulders of people in a crowd, would have helped them spot suspicious characters from a distance; a policeman on foot, or even from a prowl car, would not have had that advantage which comes from sitting tall in the saddle.

There is no predicting how much longer we can get to see the Mounted branch of the Chennai Metropolitan Police in action. Even as far back as 1860, the Police Commission Report stated that the "mounted bodies are exceedingly expensive" and that they were "more lawless" and "less amenable to control" than foot constabulary. Though that report also conceded that a mounted force is useful, for instance, to "check large Organized bodies of lawless marauders", it argued that the existing "Establishments of Horse Police.....be placed on the lowest scale in regard to numbers". The police force of Bombay disbanded their Mounted Branch in the 1930s (though they're thinking of bringing them back, now); the Delhi Mounted Police, on the other hand, was set up in the 1930s. With a sanctioned strength of 95 mounts, they could have been the leaders, but they have only 62 horses on the street and thus fall behind Kolkata Mounted Police, which has 67 - and a history going back to the 1840s. Chennai can probably run Kolkata close in the history, but is far behind in horses - Chennai's force has only about 32 currently. The good thing is, that number has been holding steady for some years now, while Coimbatore and Trichy have had their mounted branches being eroded completely within the past 3 years - and Madurai is barely holding on, with just 4 mounts.

It may be archaic, but these policemen on horses seem to mean business far more than constables sitting an chatting in one of the prowl cars!

Forgotten escape

Although the Japanese did not make too many serious efforts to attack Madras during World War II, the threat of air-raids was real enough for the city fathers to change the landscape and create an underground shelter. The Japanese did make an attempt, however. Some say that it was only a training run by a Mitsubishi Zero (or a Rufe, the Zero's seaplane version) which dropped a bomb near the Fort St George and then never came back.

Not much is known of the bombing; unlike the half-hour blitz by the S.M.S.Emden in 1914, which added the word emden (or emenden, if you like), meaning 'fearsome' to the Tamizh lexicon, the Japanese bombing seems to have been too mild to be remembered. Indeed, memories of the threat seem to have eclipsed the fact of its having happened. The official website of Chennai district lists it as a 'historical event', though with the rather dry entry, "1943 Japanese Fighter Plane dropped bombs on City and disappeared". A more tangible memory of that bombing is displayed in the Fort Museum - a fragment of the bomb itself, mounted on a brass plaque alongside a similar fragment from its 'illustrious' predecessor.

Another memory, though a tangential one, is the film 'Andha Naal' - the main character ('Sivaji' Ganesan), a traitor leaking secrets to the Japanese during World War II, being murdered on the night the Japanese bombed Madras!

English chapel

This building, in the grounds of St George's School on Poonamallee High Road, was built between 1883-5 as the house of prayer for the girls who were housed in what was the Female Orphans Asylum. Mr. Muthiah, that venerable chronicler of Chennai that was Madras, calls it "a little church that is straight out of a picture postcard scene of rural English chapel".

That it certainly is, the 'Englishness' highlighted by the use of the Celtic cross; it is probably a nod to the fact that the Asylum had its origins in a charity school of the Church of England. The fish-scale tiles on the roof are also a style that is not very commonly seen in these parts - one other building that has it is also on Poonamallee High Road!

Easy rider

It is not all that easy being a cycle-rickshawman these days. There are restrictions on these vehicles entering the main roads, so their trips are confined to the side streets. There was a time when they were all over the place, but from a high of 3.5% of total trips made (in 1992), their share has dropped down to 0.3% of total trips, in 2005. The drop has not just been in percentage terms, but in absolute numbers as well - from 35 lakh person-trips in 1992, to about 30,000 person-trips in 2005.

That's only to be expected, in the face of competition from autorickshaws and the growing two-wheeler population. Yet, there is still some hope for these vehicles. The II Draft Master Plan for Chennai specifically talks about using them as a viable para-transit option and specifically about encouraging cycle-rickshaws to operate between residential areas and transit routes. It may be an easy ride for the commuter then!

Pink-yellow-green-blue

Happy Holi!

It is not a 'local' festival, but that doesn't stop people in Chennai from celebrating Holi; in fact, the celebrations began early! Because Holi this year fell on a Monday, the fun part began during the week-end itself. After the first round of colours - gulal smeared, coloured water sprayed with pichkaris - it was difficult to figure out who was who (and in the case of the kids, who was whose!)

In north India, Holi marks the killing of the demoness Holika; alternately, it is the celebration of spring's arrival at Vrindavan. For some reason, south India does not have an analogous festival - the spring festivals of the region are rather more prosaic. But that hasn't stopped folks from going around spraying colours or using the occasion to have more than a few swigs of bhang, a cold milk-shake laced with a herbal extract (?!).

And in true traditional style, the colours of the afternoon gave way to some excellent bhang - given its potency, I'm glad that I had just the right quantity of the stuff!

Empty station

On the Beach - Tambaram suburban train line, there are some 'important' stations and others which are not so. Chetpet is not one of the important ones - to me it had always seemed to be a station which was placed more to break the monotony of the stretch between Nungambakkam and Egmore than to serve any commercial or even public interest.

Even so, Chetpet station is normally not so empty; it is just that, close to noontime on Sunday, there are just a few people on the platform - and fewer in the train!

Last light?

Heard that work on renovating the Victoria Public Hall has begun. Look forward to the first meetings there soon - wonder if the coloured glass panes will remain in place!

The old, the new

For a long while, I wasn't sure why this building - at the junction of Flowers Road and Dr. Alagappa Road (Ormes Road) - had caught my eye. Looking back at the few pictures I had taken of this, there didn't seem to be anything special about this building: like many others in the vicinity, this seemed to be another building with shops at the street level and residential spaces in the floors above.

Now I think I've figured it out. This building goes back to the 1930s; unlike many of its contemporaries, this one does not present itself in its original form today. A lot of the flourishes have been replaced by more recent construction - take the fascia under the eaves on the first floor, for instance. The houses of the '30s typically had carved wooden ones, (like this one), but here, it seems to have been replaced by a more functional wooden plank. The verandah has been protected by bars taking up space between the original wooden columns. The tiles are newer, and have flattened the gables - I imagine there must have been a couple of them initially.

And most of all, the construction on the second floor seems to be completely modern. Even though this building does not have the stately look of an old construction, it seems to be in better shape as a habitation right now!

A decade of the festival

The Mylapore Festival can justifiably claim to have inspired at least two other public celebrations, the Madras Day/Week and the Chennai Sangamam. The former is, of course, coordinated by the folks at the Mylapore Times, the same people who run the Mylapore Festival also.

While the newer events are run on a much wider scale, the Mylapore Festival retains the charm of a neighbourhood mela. As the website says, it has grown from being a kolam contest to a 30-event, 4-day festival - and yet, retains the spirit of a small village fête, where everyone knows everyone else!

The man, the brand

Tucked away in a side street off Chevalier Sivaji Ganesan Salai, this memorial to India's first movie-hero-turned-state-Chief-Minister seems to be an effort to downplay MGR's prominence. But then, it is not a state sponsored memorial, which is on the Marina; this one is maintained by the MGR Memorial Charitable Trust, and is more a storehouse of memories of the man who had a tremendous run of over 5 decades in public life, the first four more as a movie star than a politician and the last, as the state's Chief Minister. Sadly, visitors are not allowed to take pictures inside the house. The official photographer inside will take your picture at certain pre-set locations.

The first thing you see when you enter the drawing room of what used to be MGR's house is the car he used for 10 years - a greenish blue Ambassador, TMX 4777. There is an urban legend that he was sold on the number 4777, because he first became Chief Minister on July 4, 1977. Some years later, when the registration series "MGR" fell due in Maharashtra, he made sure that he bought a car there and had it registered as MGR 4777 - though he never used it much. Other interesting bits that are little known: that he had a lion as a pet - 'Raja' now stands in stuffed glory inside this memorial. He bought the lion for his production "Adimai Penn" - a sequence where he fights the lion impressed Raj Kapoor so much that he wanted tips from MGR when filming a similar sequence for Mera Naam Joker. Though I don't have pictures of either, both car and lion can be seen on the Memorial's website.

In many ways, the house is quite a nice memorial of a man whose political legacy is being claimed by many, even today. After all, it is not everyone who can claim to have won a general election from a hospital bed not just once, but twice: the first time to become an MLA after he was wounded in a fracas in 1967 and the second, all the way from Brooklyn Hospital in New York, in 1984, to be re-elected as the Chief Minister. And if that wasn't enough, a 2008 movie about a taxi carried the number of his car - that's the power of the MGR brand!

New steps

The Marina now has a three-kilometer long uninterrupted footpath - you can walk all the way from the Triumph of Labour statue to the lighthouse without any significant break. Almost at the end of your walk, you'll see the Mahatma striding the other way!

Far-gone?

There must certainly be a phase in every schoolboy's life when he is able to deduce a lot of information from just the registration number of a vehicle. Though I haven't come across any grown-up who continues to have that hobby - or fetish, if you will - I'm sure there would be several enthusiasts who could tell me all about TNJ 3879. The best I can do with it is to date this vehicle as being from between 1968 and 1980, and on that, I would beg for a huge margin of error on the upper bound.

Confidence about the early date stems from the fact that until 1968, the state was called "Madras" rather than "Tamil Nadu" as it is today. Vehicles in the pre-1968 years had their registration numbers starting with M, rather than with T. Ergo, this vehicle is from the post-1968 period.

Make that "this registration is from the post-1968 period"; the vehicle looks much older and somehow it is etched in my mind as a Fargo lorry. The design of those lorries from the 1950s was something like this, so it could very well be from that period - it could possibly have been re-registered much later. By that logic, the TNJ registration is also outdated - so, is this vehicle going for a re-registration, unlike its brother, who lies nearby? That would certainly explain the new paint on it!

Another rest-house

Its appearance is not as imposing as that of the choultry or the sarai which lie to the south of the Chennai Central railway station. Given its location on the eastern side of the station, on Wall Tax Road, it probably served a customer segment less fussy than the ones frequenting its southern neighbours.

It is not much younger than them, though. The choultry was in all likelihood a late 19th century construction, while the sarai came up in the 1920s. This dharmasala is probably a contemporary of the sarai. The similarity to the sarai continues in that the sponsors of this dharmasala were traders - Paramananda Doss and Chotta Doss, who set up their eponymous firm in 1888, trading in cloth from Benares.

Beyond that, there's little that I've been able to find out about the twin Doss-es. Surely their firm continues to survive somewhere in the warren of George Town!

Misidentified - twice over!

Taxonomy is difficult, even for Carl Linnaeus, the father of binomial nomenclature. When confronted with butterflies, the difficulty increases manifold. Butterflies have more complexity than many other animal orders; apart from the sexual dimorphism common to most animals, butterflies also have seasonal morphs and, in some cases, locational morphs also.

In the case of this butterfly, Linnaeus had first thought of it as an African species (remember, the taxonomists of the 18th century depended heavily on travellers' memories about where a specimen was sourced from), describing it as Papilio terpsicore in 1758. In 1775, Johan Christian Fabricius, a Danish entomologist studied a specimen that came to him from Africa and described it as Papilio serena - he was very quickly told that his P. serena was none other than the P. terpsicore described by Linnaeus. In 1793, Fabricius got hold of a specimen from India and believing it to be completely new, classified it as Papilio violae. It was later that all the tangles were sorted out; it was then determined that this butterfly, the Tawny Coster, is one of the exceptions, the other being the Yellow Coster - other members of the family have stayed on in Africa.

This one of course was in Chennai, basking in the sun at the Adayar Poonga!