Benign onlooker?

That he was not. Never an onlooker and not often benign. For most of his life, Muthuramalinga Thevar was an active fighter, whether it was for having to write his school exams - the plague epidemic of 1924 putting a stop to that, or for claiming his inheritance of ancestral property. Getting into politics early, Muthuramalinga Thevar organized protests against the Criminal Tribes Act, a draconian piece of legislation that stigmatized entire communities. 

In the process, Muthuramalinga Thevar joined forces with the Congress. But in the Bose vs Sitaramayya fracas, he threw his might behind Bose and subsequently followed him into the Forward Bloc. He was quite close to Netaji; close enough for his claim that he had met Netaji in 1950 to be taken seriously. Thevar - by now known as Pasumpon after the village where he was born - had disappeared for close to a year in 1949-50 and it was speculated that he had visited Netaji in China during this period. 

Although most of his political activity was in and around Madurai, he was considered an important enough person for his statue to be erected on Mount Road, where Chamiers Road meets it. With that road being renamed after him, he does look on more kindly at the passers-by from his vantage point!

Unfading statue

Quite a few of the statues along the Marina were unveiled in January 1968, when the second World Tamizh Conference was held in the city. Among those are a couple of non-natives; missionaries who came to the land with religious fervour, but live on in current memory thanks to their contributions to the Tamizh language. George Uglow Pope was one of them, but he was following a precedent set by Constanzo Beschi, who was ahead of him by a couple of centuries. 

Today is the 344th anniversary of Beschi's birth. He arrived in India when he was 31, starting off as a missionary near Tiruchirapalli. Fascinated by the land, its customs and most importantly the language, Beschi threw himself into becoming one with it. He adopted local clothes and customs; studied the language in depth, both classical as well as the argot. Out of that arose two books of Tamizh grammar, one classical and the other for the common man's dialect. Not stopping with that, he complied a சதுரகராதி - a four part lexicon, besides Tamizh-Latin-Portugese dictionaries. 

His seminal work was the Thembavani (தேம்பாவணி -  the 'Unfading Garland'); it was not merely a story of the apostle St Joseph's life, but the telling of it in a fashion that was influenced by Tamizh epic poetry. Beschi had to put up with a fair degree of persecution, but his open admiration of the culture and the language tempered the challenges he faced. This courage and his ascetic ways earned him the title of Veeramamunivar (வீரமாமுனிவர், the 'courageous hermit'), which is the name by which every schoolchild in Tamil Nadu knows him even today!

Golden temple?

Don't go around looking for a gold gopuram or anything like that, if someone gives you directions that refer to the 'Golden Vinayagar' temple of Alwarpet. If you start with such grand assumptions, you will be brought down to earth with a jolt. This temple, the தங்க விநாயகர் ஆலையம் appears to be one more of the many Vinayagar temples dotting the roads of the city. But then, do not make the mistake of dismissing this as 'just another' temple. It appears to have a history of its own, going back to the days when Alwarpet was just a village, far away from the 'Madras city' of the British. The first mention of this village goes back to 1777, as part of a survey of the 'Home Farms' (as the suburban villages of Nungambakkam, Egmore, San Thome, etc were called at the time). There must have been a fairly busy village here, for, in its initial days, Teynampet was known as 'New Alwarpet' and the older area was called 'Alwarpet Gramam'. It appears that these sister-villages decided to have temples with different deities - maybe because it was younger, Teynampet chose Subramanian, while Alwarpet picked the older brother. 

This temple would have seen quite a lot, even if it is only a couple of generations old. The house right behind it was occupied by the Tamizh writer Jayakanthan; his contemporaries wondered how he could find inspiration when everything around him was boisterous - speakeasies and bordellos were his neighbours. And there was no respite during daytime, either, for the side-streets were thick with people, especially when the weekly சந்தை (open market) would happen. This temple would have seen all than Jayakanthan had observed and then some more. 

So, I guess the 'golden' here refers to the era when this temple was the prime spot of Alwarpet and life revolved around it in every way. Even if it is regarded as just another roadside temple by the citizen rushing past it on TTK Road, it commands devotion from the village of Alwarpet that continues to function on the side roads behind it!

Empty theatre

There are no shows in Padmanabha Theatre these days. Apparently it is being used as a parking lot and I daresay it brings in more revenue than screening movies did. Padmanabha  came up when north Madras was the hub of social and entertainment events. So, the main gate had a tableau of Mahavishnu resting on Anantha; pass it on your way in and you know that you have left behind the real world.

In a few weeks, this building will also disappear. Real estate on Wall Tax Road is at a premium and this space can be put to much better use than to just being a parking lot!

Clouds over city

As cyclone Nilam came around.... rushing back home, took this picture of Chennai airport's terminal building. Lots of wind and noise; but surprisingly little rain - and it remained quite warm that evening!

Hidden away

Once upon a time, this statue was situated at a prime location, where Pallavan Salai joins Mount Road. It was unveiled at that location by Sir Arthur Lawley, the Governor of Madras, in 1911. After standing there for about 36 years, this statue of Hungerford Tudor Boddam was moved, canopy and all, to a corner of Napier's Park, where it stays on, ignored by the morning walkers and yoga-makers, who go about their business unmindful of this man in their midst.

That a statue of this man should have been built up is in itself surprising. It is said that, as a Judge of the Madras High Court, H.T. Boddam set some kind of record in the number of judgements being reversed on appeal. When he realised this, he decided that his notes of evidence were private property and refused to release them for the appellate courts to review. He was known to be partisan, pre-judging cases before listening to the evidence and favouring specific members of the Bar. There seems to be little record of him before his tenure as a Judge. He was born in 1850 in Dacca (Dhaka, in today's Bangladesh). He seems to have gone over to England to study, for there is a mention of his having served as Recorder of Newcastle-under-Lyme in 1890. And then, there he is in 1896, being appointed as a Judge of the Madras High Court; a position that he was abysmally bad at, that the lawyers refused to accord him the ceremonial farewell from the Bar. 

And yet, he was not a bad guy. He was the first President of the Madras Pinjrapole, the home for abandoned castle, having helped with getting it off the ground as well. The statue itself was subscribed to by several citizens of Madras. Boddam seems to have had no particular fondness for Madras. Almost as soon as he retired, he set off for Bombay, hoping to catch the steamer back to England. Unfortunately, he died on the way to Bombay and his body was brought back for a formal burial in Madras. And he continues to stay here ever since!

Misleading?

At first glance, it seemed to be a medical practitioner's signboard. But that was quickly clarified, thanks to the very clear fullstop between the 'D' and the 'R'. And if any doubt lingered, it was wiped away with the intuitive understanding that there is no consulting doctor who advertises as 'Bros'. 

I'm always fascinated by the enamel-on-blue boards - or those approximating that effect. The Raanka Brothers possibly started their business a little too late for the enamels, but blue and white was likely the height of fashion in 1942, which was when the business was set up. Starting out as a wholesaler of silver vessels, Raanka moved into silver jewellery; it is customary that, despite (or because of) India's fascination with gold, it is never used to make anklets. Silver was therefore the metal of choice for such ornamentation and the silversmiths were the supply point. It is the third generation that runs D.R.Raanka Bros these days, but some of the old traditions die hard - including the description of anklets as 'leg chains'. 

Another of those old habits would be the city's name. Even today, the board refers to 'Madras' and not 'Chennai'. Would that mislead an ordinary person who relies on this board as a geo-locator? Hardly. But what was completely out of place was the address on this board; I had to look all around to make sure that we had not wandered off from Arunachala Street in Chintadripet!

Local boss

In a strange way, this area between Nungambakkam and Egmore seems to be some kind of banking hub. There are a couple of representative offices of foreign banks up ahead on this road. Then there is the large Standard Chartered Bank complex on Haddows Road. The State Bank of India however beats all of them because not only does it have its 'LHO' - Local Head Office - here, but it also has quite a number of Officers' Quarters just behind the LHO.

This building is obviously a fairly recent one. The State Bank of India, as you may know, has its roots in the Presidency Banks of the early 19th century. For a long while, the erstwhile headquarters of the Bank of Madras served as the LHO for State Bank of India as well. It was probably about a dozen years or so ago that the LHO moved into this building. In doing so, SBI went against the grain, picking a spot that was not on 'Main Street', so to say. However, once the big daddy of India's banks came in, it became the main street, almost by default.

The one thing that is mysterious about this is the building's name. "Circletop House" conjures up an Enid Blyton-esque image, that's quite far removed from the business of  banking. But that's the name of this building. Try as I could, I was unable to spot any circular appendages on the roof of the building!

River view

Although its total length (42 km) is less than that of the Cooum (65km), the Adayar river flows within the city for much more of its course than the Cooum does. Strangely, the Adayar seems to accumulate less garbage in travelling through the city (24km) than the Cooum does.

This is one of the better passages of the river; flowing under the bridge at Kotturpuram. On the left bank is the Madras Boat Club. And if you look closely, you will be able to see the lane markers in the water, for the members of the Boat Club to navigate by, as they prepare for their next qualifiers. 

There is so much of water around Chennai in the past few days, that it was rather easy to find a picture at "The Water's Edge", which is the theme for today's posting across the City Daily Photo sites. If you'd like to see the pictures taken by the other participants in the Theme Day pictures, you' welcome to do so here!

Stormrider

Not too many people in Chennai would be concerned about Hurricane Sandy since this morning, I guess. Having gone to bed last night knowing that Sandy had quietened down, attention was once more turned to the local lad who had been pouring all along the south-eastern seaboard of India. Cyclone Nilam is expected to cross the coast this evening. The US Navy's map shows it as passing just south of Chennai. We can certainly look forward to a lot of water today, I guess.

Will the cyclone itself target Chennai? It has been a while since that happened. For years, Chennaiites have been used to hearing how the cyclone of the season was tracking to cross the coast: first the wide range between Nagapattinam and Cuddalore; then, Cuddalore and Chennai, followed by Chennai and Nellore, before making landfall between Nellore and Ongole - or veering off towards Bangladesh. It appeared that Chennai was well protected and we remained thankful, even as we agonized over losses in places far less prepared to face a cyclone.

Nilam will be less violent than Thane was, according to the Met. Office. So maybe there is still a chance that you can take a walk down the Marina as it pours away like this!

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!

Auto rebirth

Chennai's auto rickshaws are constantly taking a bad rap, that almost nobody pays any attention to one aspect I believe they are way ahead in. Granted, my data is sketchy, at best. But from what I have seen, these vehicles are maintained quite well; one would not feel repulsed at say, dirt or rust or any such inconvenience inside an auto rickshaw. I have not heard anyone complain about this either, so I believe I am justified in generalising. 

A walk along the West Cooum River Road in Chintadripet would help you swallow that generalised premise. On any day, there would be anywhere between 200 and 300 auto rickshaws along the river side. The shops there specialise in getting the vehicles ready for their 'FC': the Fitness Certificate from the RTO that has to be revalidated at least once in 2 years. Some shops do only frames; others do the engines. There are shops dedicated to decals. Paint jobs. Electricals. In short here is the place to come to if you would like your auto rickshaw to take on a new life.

There are quite likely different ways of taking on 'new life' and I am sure these shops will create such new identities as well. With Pudupet - the hub of stolen motorcycles - just across the river, it is difficult to keep such ideas away. But no, we shall start the week on a positive note - and here's wishing your auto ride today is pleasant!

Six tastes

If a man has been called "அறுசுவை அரசு" (Arusuvai Arasu, meaning the "King of Six Tastes") by the President of India, there has to be something to his cooking. Nataraj Iyer has been at it for over half a century - and recognition from the President had come quite early in that career. It was V.V. Giri who bestowed that title on him sometime in the early '70s. Almost twenty years later, Nataraj Iyer, by then popularly known as 'Arusuvai Natarajan', was named as one of the official caterers to the Rashtrapati Bhavan, when R. Venkataraman was the President of India, between 1987 and 1992. 

But you don't have to be the President to taste Arusuvai Natarajan's cooking. All you need to do is to get invited to a wedding that he has contracted to cater for. Being friends with a family that has had Nataraj Iyer cater for all their weddings has ensured I get my share once every few years - and the latest occasion was yesterday. On earlier occasions, I had not got to see the man, but yesterday was special for him as well - he said it was the third generation wedding of the family that he was catering for and he had wanted to be there in person.

The entire ArusuvaiArasu team was present. The food was outstanding. Nataraj Iyer was there, supervising the preparation and the service. He made sure he was leading the service when the groom sat down for breakfast. Not only was he there in the dining area, he was all over the mandapam, making sure that things were going on in clockwork fashion, on occasion even checking on the priest's way of performing a ritual. Of course, nobody - priest or not - was going to argue protocol or process with an eighty-nine year old who has handled over ten thousand such weddings!

Sounds of silence

A hundred and five years ago, in these premises known as "Leland's Garden", a school was founded. More about that school will be the subject of a future post; for, it is a completely different institution that currently occupies these premises.

Within five years of its founding, St. Bede's European High School - as it was then known - moved out of its original buildings to make way for a school for the hearing impaired. Of course in those more direct times, it was called a school for the deaf. It was in 1912 that the Church of England Zenana Missionary Society acceded to the persuasions of one of its members. Florence Swainson was allowed to begin a residential school for seven children, calling it the CEZMS School for the Deaf, Mylapore. Maybe the CEZMS felt that it was a passing fancy; it was another 44 years before the school was formally registered. In the meantime, much had changed, including the patronage of the school. It was registered as the Church of South India School for the Deaf. 

The CSI continues to run this school, one of the oldest in the city. It has almost 200 children today and more than half of them are residential scholars. They will be celebrating their centenary year with a lot of joy - even if they may not be able to hear most of it.

Large monument

The garrison church at St Thomas Mount has several memorial plaques inside it. As befitting a martial institution, almost all of them remember soldiers who had fallen, in combat or out of it. 

One military man however, seems to have been a favourite with the civilian folks of Madras as well. William Sydenham had joined the Madras Artillery as a cadet in 1768, when he was barely 16 years old. In the following 33 years, he went on to become the Commandant of that Artillery, having served in all campaigns of the First Battalion. He was apparently so smitten with Madras, and with the garrison at the Mount, that he kept coming back to it at every opportunity. 

Not only was he the head of the artillery, he was also Auditor-General of Fort St George. He was promoted to that post (and the rank of Major General) in January 1801, but he did not serve for long. Sydenham died on June 13, 1801. The generosity of the East India Company was large-hearted enough for him to be provided this memorial just behind the garrison church, rather than just a marble marker inside it!

Old view

Have you ever wondered about what Madras would have looked like in the middle of the eighteenth century? If so, all you have to do to satisfy your curiosity is to walk along to the Fort Museum. Apart from all those statues - that of Cornwallis being the most in-your-face - there are quite a few paintings showing various facets of the fort. 

This one seemed especially nice; the ships coming in from the sea appear to be firing their cannons. But the fort itself seems quite unperturbed by this aggression. Notice the gate of the fort. It opens out almost into the sea itself; at high tide, the sea was right there at the gate - even now that eastern gate is also referred to as the Sea Gate. 

Maybe everyone in the fort knew that the 'Madras Roads' would not allow the ships to get close enough to inflict any serious damage!

  

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!

Sunrise industry?

The post title has been shamelessly stolen from a friend's description. We had gone to try and shoot some birds at Pallikaranai a couple of weeks ago. I had no hopes of getting a picture, but it is always good to go and take a look at the birds. We had stopped at the edge of the marsh and this picture suggested itself; a nice orange sunrise, even though it was quite bright around us at that time, despite a mildly overcast sky.

It was a good walk, but many of the regular birds hadn't reached the marsh yet. It has been gut-wrenching to see the marshland being turned into a vast dumping ground as the city expanded. In the past three or four years, the forest department has been doing its best to contain the damage being caused to the marsh ecosystem. Last week, they got a big boost up, when about 300 hectares were turned over to them; 125 ha coming from the revenue department and 170 ha from the Corporation of Chennai. 

Now, with the plan to declare the Pallikaranai marshland a reserve forest, the growth of such factory sheds in the area will slow down. Not entirely a bad thing, really. How can we enjoy the sunrise industries without being able to appreciate the sunrise over the marsh!

Riders' dream

There is a Harley's Road in Chennai, but it is in danger of losing its identity. The Chennai dealership of Harley-Davidson was opened in late 2011. It has been quite low key (as in, "How come I didn't know about it for so long?!"), but then, the other luxury automobile brands in Chennai - Porsche, Jaguar - have also been low key. Harley has its showroom in Wallace Garden. I am sure this dealership has met its sales targets for the year; there seem to be quite a few Harleys roaring around Chennai. 

Roaring is probably the wrong word to use. This was a company that tried to trademark the sound of its machines. In 1981, Harley-Davidson was 'rescued', after a dozen years of being a division of AMF through a management buy-out led by Vaughn Beals. Soon after that, the company tried to claim that the 'potato-potato-potato' sound of its engines was unique and distinctive. A long and tedious application process was contested at every stage by other motorcycle makers; at the turn of the millenium, the company dropped the application, with a spokesperson saying "...Harley-Davidson owners from around the world ... told me repeatedly that there is nothing like the sound of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle..."

In India, that sound is spread through the eight dealerships that Harley has. (No, make that nine, for the dealership at Kochi opens today). This one at Chennai is called the Coromandel Harley-Davidson.  I am afraid to go any closer, for I always think of Harley-Davidson as the 'Belle dame sans merci'. I am enthralled enough, as it is!