Which way?

No, it is not like platform nine-and-three-quarters at King's Cross. This gatepost is all that remains of what was once Madras' leading multi-screen cinema - the Safire complex. Together with Emerald and Blue Diamond, they formed the Veecumsee Group's entertainment business. It seemed rather apt and I used to think about a karmic connection each time we-went-to-see a movie there.

Correction: the complex was not just a movie palace. I remember playing Atari's Pong there for the first time. Pinball tables: check. Jukebox: check. Bubble elevator: check. It also housed the city's first discotheque. Nine Gems was the place to go if you wanted to groove to the Beatles. The disco did not last for long; it was replaced by a Gujarati / Rajasthani restaurant named Navaratna. Even that became less of an attraction as days went by. Safire was a place for the movies.

Today, Safire is a place for memories. The Veecumsee family members seem to have gone back to focus on their other business - jewellery and resorts, as well as some new economy ventures. They have moved away from the cinema/entertainment sector - probably they are also overawed by the thought of competing with such a larger than life legacy!

The S-bend

Okay, so it is not really the ‘S’ bend. It would have been nice to get the Adayar river to heed the conventions of the Roman script, but the river has its own mind.

Few history textbooks of record it, but the Battle of Adayar was also one of the arms in the S-bend of the city’s history. When the French turned the British out of Fort St George, the Nawab of Carnatic thought he could do the same to the French. Knowing that the French army was only around 2,000, mostly native soldiers, the Nawab thought they would be no match for his force of over 10,000. He did not realize that the spahis (or siphais, or sepoys), trained by the French, fought to a different drummer than that of his force. The Nawab was crushed; European training and discipline trumped native daring and courage. The battle thus finalized a template that would be used by the British to hold the country together for a couple of centuries after that.

There is a different march on the river these days. A decade ago, a picture like this would have shown very few buildings. One hopes they remain the only constructions even in the years to come!

Sesquicentennial trio

The High Courts of Bombay, Calcutta and Madras are all celebrating their 150th anniversary in 2012. The High Court of Judicature at Madras is the 'junior-most' among the three; Calcutta (originally the High Court of Judicature at Fort William) was established on July 1, 1862, Bombay on August 14 and Madras on August 15 of the same year. However, it must be remembered that the Supreme Court of Madras - as befitting the first city of the Raj - had been functioning since 1801, before being abolished to make way for the new structure of judiciary. 

In fact, it was a judge of the Madras High Court, Sir Gilbert Stone, who moved to Bombay in 1862 to take charge as the first Chief Justice of the High Court of Judicature at Bombay. But as with many other institutions that were born in Madras, the newer ones grew bigger - The Bombay High Court has a sanctioned strength of 75 judges and Calcutta 63, with Madras bringing up the rear with 60. 

The last of the 3 to observe the valedictory of its sesquicentennial is doing it today. Part of the delay was probably because it was waiting for the President of India to be the chief guest at the function. After all, this is a High Court that has had a lawyer who practiced here go on to become President of India - not to mention the only Indian Governor General as well. It is only fitting that Pranab Mukherjee follows S. Radhakrishnan (at the centenary celebrations) and R. Venkataraman (at the 125th anniversary) to be the chief guest at a significant anniversary celebration here!

Lying, waiting

In 1834, the Asiatic Journal reported that, "the cause for extra subscriptions to the Monegar Choultry no longer exists, the poor creatures having been all forwarded to their native places....on the 31st of August, only 1,079 distressed objects remained...". It is hard to imagine that the 'objects' being talked about were actually people; people who had to be sheltered at the Monegar Choultry to help them tide over the famine of 1833-34 that killed nearly 200,000  across Guntur, Nellore, Masulipatnam and Madras. There is nothing to show how many were saved by the kindness of Monegar Choultry, which was arguably the first public charity of the city of Madras.

The Choultry was set up in response to an earlier, even more miserable famine: that of 1781-84, which probably left upwards of a million dead. (One report says 10 million, but that seems too fantastic a figure). The Famine Relief Committee rented a building just outside the North Wall of the city - maybe by design, to keep the destitute outside the city walls, or maybe it was just the only one available - to serve as the soup kitchen of its time. Or maybe it was because there was a village headman - a manaiyakkaran - running a kanji centre nearby; people would know where to go to be cared for. So manaiyakkaran became 'Monegar' and the Choultry grew famous under that name. So famous that, despite being renamed as the 'Raja of Venkatagiri's Choultry', the old name continues to be displayed and referred to all around. 

This building is the oldest - but certainly not from 230 years ago - survivor of the Choultry's history. An even earlier practice, that continues still, is that an inmate's relatives (who probably cared little for him/her during the lifetime) have no claim to the body after his/her death. The cadaver is automatically sent across to the nearby Stanley Medical College's anatomy department. The destitute, in death, trying to ease the burden of the living!

Buzzin' around

The Beehive Foundry was named very appropriately, by all accounts. It supposedly employed between 500 and 600 workmen even during the lean season and the "activity which prevails in a hive of bees is not excelled by the industry which is manifested by the large staff of employees of this company". Contractors to shipping companies, the railways and large builders among others, the Beehive Foundry was set up in this building, which housed Oakes & Co., arguably Madras' first department store. The Beehive Foundry was Oakes' foray into engineering and it grew to be quite successful, with the works going completely electric (from the original steam power) in 1914, subsequent upon their being awarded the contract to outfit the hospital ship Madras that year. 

Suryanarayana Rao, the scion of a Vijayawada-based business family set up business for himself in 1907. His friend C.A.Chettiar joined him a few years later, and the two of them ventured into the steel foundry and fabrication business. It is quite likely that they took over the Beehive Foundry soon after and the group came to be known as the Beehive Kowtha Group.

The foundry has moved to Vijayawada. But the Group continues to have fabrication shops in Chennai, as well as Hyderabad and Vijayawada; and its corporate office stays on at this address: Beehive Buildings, 57, Broadway, Chennai 600108!

Bare tower

Less than a generation ago, Velachery was an ignored outpost of Madras, a temple suburb that was poorly connected with the rest of the city. Velachery - the name is supposedly a corruption of the original Vedashreni (the abode of the Vedas) - has two temples that go back several hundred years. And they used to be the major reason for people to go to that part of the city. 

Now, Velachery is the hub of the new-economy; the temples have been largely forgotten. Not because of anything else, but it is just that the population of Velachery has grown exponentially in the last few years and the newcomers have not had the time or the inclination to think about the heritage of their new hometown. But not all is lost. The temples have been sprucing themselves up, in anticipation of new visitors.

One such spruce-up project was probably this gopuram. I am not sure if the Sree Dhandeeswarar Koil had a gopuram here earlier, but this one is surely of very recent origin. Unlike the normal colourful gopurams, this one seems to remain bare - or has it been painted over since I last saw it?!

Ship ahoy!

That's what the lookout should be shouting from his perch high above the waterline. But what would the poor chap do when the mast is barely above sea level, with the rest of his ship settled on the ocean's floor? The 'Madras Roads' had always been notoriously tricky to navigate, but surely not so treacherous as to sink ships?

I had thought there were only two ships that had floundered on the ChennaiMadras coast in recent times. The one at the mouth of the Cooum is a hazy memory of stories heard. It ran aground sometime in the late 1960s, but I have not been able to find much evidence of that disaster. The other one I know of is more recent, when a ship ran into the Tiruvottiyur shore in 1994. It remained there, stuck to the shore and I would see it everyday on my way to work. I remember that the locals treated it as a picnic spot; the evenings would see sharbath and cotton-candy sellers do brisk business with the crowds that would turn up to see the big ship up close. (I had had a picture taken there as well. Wonder where that is, now!)

But this was a new one. It was only last week that I learnt that there was a sunken ship just outside the Madras Harbour. All that I have got to know about it is that it was called 'Seven Seas' - or it belonged to a company so named - and that it sank sometime in the mid-1980s. Its mast still shows above the waters, forming a nice perch for the brown-headed gulls (or were they the bridled terns?) to rest between their sorties!

Stopped press

It looks like what it is. The signboard of a business that has seen vastly better times, but is now faded, rusting in its own history. "Appar Achchagam" it says, with the preceding words having faded completely away. It may not be much to look at, but it had its day about half-a-century ago.

Appar Achchagam, on Broadway, was the printing arm of the Saiva Siddhantha Works Publishing Society, which was run by Va. Thiruvarangam Pillai, who was a big fan of Maraimalai Adigalar. (Maybe the biggest fan - he married Neelambigai, the Adigalar's daughter). He had been instrumental in bringing Adigalar to Ceylon, and the SSWP Society had published every one of the Adigalar's books. Upon his death, Adigalar bequeathed is collection of over 4000 Tamizh books to the SSWP Society, which, in 1958, opened the Maraimalai Adigal Library on Linghi Chetty Street. Building on that initial corpus, the Library grew to over 35,000 rare books, journals and manuscripts over the next 50 years. Unable to house them, or to maintain the Library itself, the Society turned the entire collection over to the Connemara Library. 

Today, the Society seems to have gone under completely. A handwritten sheet, under this sign, calls on them to deliver vacant possession of the premises by order of the High Court. The heritage of the Adigalar, revered as the father of 'pure Tamizh', seems to have been completely institutionalized, now!

Bull elephant

At the corner just after the lighthouse on Kamaraj Salai, you will find this sculpture. It is quite an interesting work, if you pay attention to it. It has been crafted in the style of the ancient Chola sculptors - as seen at Darasuram, near Kumbakonam. Or is it after the Chalukyas, as seen at the Badami caves? 

If you go to the Airavateswara temple at Darasuram, you can see a similar interpretation, but as a bas-relief work. It is in bas-relief at Badami, as well. Both of them show a similar elephant-bull combination. If you look at this sculpture from the left, you will see the bull raising its head; move to the right and you can see the elephant unfurling its trunk.

This work follows the Darasuram/Badami tradition in another way - there is no indication of what this is all about. The pedestal seems to have kept a place for a description or a dedication or whatever. Only that it still remains empty. Go ahead, fill it with your imagination!

Peoplewatching

In March every year, the Sri Bhaktavatsala Perumal temple at Thriruninravur conducts its Brahmotsavam. It was coincidental that a bunch of us from the Chennai Photowalk landed up there that day. As we got into one of the roads near the temple, we realised we were just ahead of the palanquin carrying the deity in a ceremonial procession. 

The palanquin would pause on its journey, allowing folks from the nearby houses to come out and make their offerings to the deity. The priests also pause, a little distance away, waiting for the next move. 

For today's 'Theme Day' post; just a few days ago, I had gone ahead with another picture showing 'People Watching' just a few days ago.... so here is one of the 'Priests Watching'!

The theme today for the City Daily Photo group bunch is 'People Watching'. For more pictures of people watching around the world, head over to their Facebook page!

Proud employer

Imagine you are the foremost mathematician of your time, living in Cambridge, England. Imagine you get a letter from Madras, postmarked January 16, 1913, which starts off,

"Dear Sir, 

I beg to introduce myself to you as a clerk in the Accounts Department of the Port Trust Office at Madras on a salary of only £20 per annum. I am now about 23 years of age. I have had no University education but I have undergone the ordinary school course...."

What would you do?

G.H. Hardy was intrigued by the letter and the 9 pages of theorems appended with it. Some were familiar, many were not. At the end of it, Hardy concludes, "They must be true because, if they were not true, no one would have the imagination to invent them". Thus began a great collaboration in the world of mathematics, one that has been described several times over (most brilliantly by Robert Kanigel in 'The Man Who Knew Infinity: A Life of the Genius Ramanujan'). 

Ramanujan was encouraged to write that letter by Sir Francis Spring, the Chairman of the Madras Port Trust and S. Narayana Iyer, the Chief Accountant. That they had taken such an interest in the non-official activities of a Class III Grade IV clerk was because that post was a sinecure, procured by the efforts of R. Ramachandra Rao, the district collector of Nellore and secretary of the Indian Mathematical Society. Ramanujan had been introduced to Ramachandra Rao in 1910 and had requested Rao for "leisure" to work on his mathematics. Rao arranged to bear his expenses, at the same time looking out for a more stable arrangement.

That arrangement was worked out in early 1912. Ramanujan joined the Madras Port Trust on March 1 that year. His tenure at the Port Trust was short; but it was the only formal employment he ever had. So it is that this bust is placed in the foyer of the Port Trust's Conference Hall - a proud employer honouring its most famous employee!

Eye-catching

It is certainly not a very 'descript' building. Like hundreds of others in Chennai, this one too is a just a regularly shaped block of concrete. Being right across the road from the LIC Building on Mount Road, it would have been completely ignored, had it not been for the arresting geometrical pattern on its facade. 

For a few years, that pattern made sure the DBS Bank faced up to its taller neighbour across the road. It could have become an instantly recognisable landmark itself, but apart from the facade, there was little else of interest in the building. One was startled, but one moved on. 

This picture was taken a couple of years ago. Today, you will not be able to get this view. And once the Chennai Metro comes up, those across the street will probably no longer have their eyes jerked towards this colourful structure!

South-west sentinel

That is how this statue, at the south-west corner of the Madras High Court campus, was described by a Judge of the Madras High Court. Like its counterpart at the north-east corner (that of Rajaji), this statue too honours a barrister who gave up his practice to participate in the freedom struggle. The road this statute looks on to, known earlier as Broadway, was renamed in his honour as "Prakasam Salai".

It was not because Tanguturi Prakasam Pantulu lived on Broadway. It was on that road, in 1928 that a black flag demonstration was being held against the visiting Simon Commission. A nervous police force watched the demonstration gathering strength as they marched south on Broadway; finally, when it reached the China Bazaar junction of the Esplanade (what is now NSC Bose Road), the police opened fire. The shots sent the crowd back - except Parthasarathy, one of the demonstrators, who had been killed by the bullets. His body lay at the junction. The police swore to shoot anyone who approached the body. Enraged by that attitude, it was Prakasam, who ripped open his shirt and, daring the policemen to target his chest, walked up to lift Parthasarathy's body and continue on the march. It was this courage which brought him the sobriquet "Andhra Kesari" (the Lion of Andhra). The courage was demonstrated again when, heedless of his personal safety, he visited the Nizam of Hyderabad in 1948 to convince him to join the Indian Union, at a time when the Razakars were out to get him.

The plaque on the statue also calls him 'Andhra Kesari'. That he was the Premier of the Madras Presidency (1946-47) is mentioned in much smaller letters. This sentinel can be better cared for, surely!

Sugarcane saint

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

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

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

Mill Hill Church

I don't think that's really true, calling this a "Mill Hill Church". Although it was the Mill Hill Missionaries who took charge of the parishes of Nungambakkam and Vepery sometime in the early 20th century, their hold on it remained only for about 20 years or so. In 1930, the control of these parishes was passed on to the Padroado Portugues do Oriente  (the protection of the King of Portugal). 

St Teresa's Church, which is the one being discussed, stands on Nungambakkam High Road. It is said this was originally a small chapel within the Bishop of Madras' house and that it began to grow only after the Mill Hill-ers took charge. The chapel was elevated to the level of a parish church in 1912 (and a centenary celebration is called for?) and has continued its growth since.

The Mill Hill-ers handed over the church to the Padroado in 1930. By that time, however, the Padroado was itself in the wane, what with the Padroado Real having given way to the Padroado Portugues do Oriente. The last vestiges of the Padroado disappeared in 1999 when Macau was handed over to China; but in Nungambakkam, this church (and the parish) was moved to the Archdiocese of Madras-Mylapore sometime in the 1950s itself!

Urban renewal

There was a time when Chennai had a green lung along one side of Mount Road. Most of the eastern boundary between the Cenotaph Road and Chamiers Road junctions was taken up by the Poultry Research Station (PRS) of the Tamil Nadu Veterinary and Animal Sciences University (TANUVAS). The PRS campus had a few scattered buildings amidst the greenery on its nine-acre campus. The rest of the space was taken up by raintrees, gulmohurs, neem trees and a thick spread of underbrush all around. 

It was a space where herds of chital roamed. Where rat snakes played a daily game of slithering away from a family of mongoose. Where koels, flycatchers, kingfishers, mynahs, woodpeckers and at least 25 other species of birds built nests for generations. Almost all of them have disappeared over the past couple of years, after the land was turned over to the Chennai Metro Rail for its headquarters. 

Once, poultry breeds like the Nandanam Chicken and the Nandanam Broiler were developed here, for use by breeders all over the state (if not all over the country). Now steel rods are being shaped into frames for spans that will carry the metro rail over many parts of the city. Truly a case of urban renewal! 

Doll building?

It is not often that government offices or buildings bring up nostalgic memories of childhood. But Kuralagam is one such. Children of the 1970s might remember this as the go-to place for golu dolls and by all accounts, it continues to host the annual doll sale that might attract kids to visit it even in this day and age. 

In an area of Chennai that is filled several buildings that are over a hundred years old, this one is a kid itself. A little over 40 years old, Kuralagam (a rough translation would be "the essence of the kural) was built to house several government departments that were being crammed into the Chepauk offices. These included the Commercial Taxes Department, the Commissionerate of Handlooms and Textiles, and the Khadi and Village Industries Board. The last named continues its practice of putting up golu dolls for display during the Navaratri season.

Those dolls were the big reason for children to go to Kuralagam - and maybe to imagine government offices as being colourful places. What with flavoured milk from the Aavin counter in the building, you can't fault a kid for thinking this must be one of the "Best Places to Work"!

Anachronism

Everything about this board is from another era, starting with the white-on-blue lettering. It has been at least sixteen years since the city's name was officially changed from 'Madras' to 'Chennai', but this board still has not been updated. 

It has been even longer - I forget when, but I'm willing to bet that it was at least twenty years ago - that the telephone numbers in the city were moved to seven digits. Maybe nobody has tried calling them for a while. 

But somebody did tell them that their address had to be changed. Mount Road - on which this shop stands - was renamed Anna Salai sometime in the early 1970s; with that clue, we can conclude this has't yet gone into the 'antique' category, but remains merely at the 'classic' stage!

Lawyer's Chamber

How many lawyers does it take to change a light bulb? One possible answer to that could be "All of them". Have been trying to find out how many lawyers practice in Chennai, but that seems to be something even the Bar Council of Tamil Nadu is having a hard time estimating. 

The streets around the Madras High Court are festooned with boards naming advocates and their services. Given the scarcity of real estate in the streets of George Town, it is understandable that their offices are usually one-room affairs, where even a loophole will find it difficult to twist  itself. 

In the midst of such cramped settings, the law office of Advocate A. Nagarajan seems to be luxurious. With a cafeteria attached, his clients would also find waiting more pleasant!

Madras Day!

Much of the last 373 years, since Francis Day and Andrew Cogan received their firman, has been forgotten. But there is much that is remembered. Passing on those memories from the earliest days of Madras to the citizens of today's Chennai is something that V. Sriram does with panache. And when it comes to the Madras Day heritage walks, he is in his element, weaving one story into another, conjuring up images of the early days of the city all the while. 

The Madras Day celebrations are now eight years old. A tribute to this city's founding day, begun by Mr. S.Muthiah, Vincent D'Souza and Sashi Nair now covers many events, spread out across two weeks. While the celebrations get bigger and better with each passing year, there are still several folks who remain incurious - and incredulous about this city. 

The best cure - one of these walks! If you've missed them this year, they'll be back in 2013!!