Small shop, big deity

According to mythology, Lord Parasurama had to behead his mother on his father's command. Though she was brought back to life immediately after that, the severed head gave rise to the iconography of the representation of Shakti as Renuka. 

In keeping with that tradition, the temple of Renuka Parameshwari depicts the main deity as only the head. There is however, the full-bodied version as well, and also the icons of Kasi Visalakshi along with her consort. 

This temple does not go back very far in history; most accounts talk of it as being just a couple of centuries old. During that period, it has acquired a name that it is more commonly known by - Chinnakadai Mariamman - that I was surprised to find it has more formal name!

Narrow outlook

Yes. That is truly how Kutchery Lane opens into the North Mada Street of the Kapaleeswarar Temple. But as one gets out from this narrowest of lanes, all it takes to get into the temple is to cross the street. That small gopuram is over a door to the temple's administrative office. That door does not open for you or me, it is quite possibly an entrance for only the most privileged of the temple's staff and/or devotees.

For a long while, that was the entrance through with the temple's designated devadasi, would enter the temple. She was an integral part of the temple's rituals, and was accorded a high status in the temple's hierarchy. But over the years, the position of the devadasi was stigmatised, and there were likely enough people within the temple administration who were politicking to cut the devadasis down to size.

It was not just at this temple; all over the Madras Presidency and across India, the desire to abolish the devadasi system led to the passage of legislation such as the Madras Devadasis (Prevention of Dedication) Act in 1947. With that law in their hands, the puritan faction of the temple administrators walked out through the office door, into the Kutchery Lane, to the ex-officio residence of the last of Kapaleeswar devadasis and unceremoniously threw her out into the street. And so ended a tradition, one that gave much of today's Bharatanatyam dance, in obscurity and penury. Would it have been any different had the passage been much broader?

Old boys

It took almost two centuries for this "old-boys' club" to come up. The survey school that began in 1794 grew to become the College of Engineering, Guindy, of today. It was only in 1993, however, that some of the alumni decided that they needed a club that is both exclusive and global. Global, because the earliest alumni were not the natives, and also because over time, the native alumni have gone on to be stars around the world.

Exclusive because it is meant for the alumni of the core colleges of the Anna University - the CoEG, of course, as also the Alagappa Chettiar College of Technology, Madras Institute of Technology and the School of Architecture and Planning. That may sound like a lot of institutions, but it must be remembered that the Anna University has over a hundred colleges under it. 

The Alumni Club - it does not have to specify what the alumni are of - has the facilities you would expect of any such club: meeting rooms, auditoria, restaurants, library, sports facilities. All of this spread out over a complex on the southern bank of the river Adyar, accessed only through the posh Boat Club area. But hey, an institution whose alumni have gone on to be social reformers, politicians (in India and other countries), cricketers, movie stars should get to do a bit of posh once in a while!

Book wall

The Hindu's "LitForLife 2017" kicked off today at the Sir Mutha Venkata Subba Rao Concert Hall. It was quite a full house today, with Dr. Shashi Tharoor on stage; after his session, a large chunk of the crowd followed him outside, to the author pavilion where he was signing copies of his latest book. 

On the way back after getting the autograph, spotted this book wall. Couldn't help thinking it would have been better with people - kids, especially - standing up close and reading these. And then, we saw that there were spaces at the Hall where you could sit down and read, and in fact, swap books for the day. 

That's nice - look forward to being back there tomorrow!

Tables

Sometimes, when you get in early for a weekend movie at the Madras Race Club, you get a wide range of seating options. 

Although, with the way these tables are oriented vis-a-vis the screen, at least one person at each table must decide the movie is not worth watching. Maybe there is an opportunity here to design a movie-watching-on-club-lawn table!

Monk in the city

Like many other great personages, this man shed his mortal coils before he turned forty. Born this day in 1863, Vivekananda took "Hinduism" to the centre stage at the Parliament of the World's Religions in Chicago in 1893. It took Vivekananda nearly four years after that speech to return to his native land; he arrived at Colombo on January 15, 1897 and then, traversing the route from Pamban to Madras, arriving in the city on January 20. Though he lectured at Colombo and several other stops on the way, Madras was the focus of this return trip.

The place that he stayed in was then known as Castle Kernan, or alternately the Ice House. It was not meant to be a residence, but then, it was spacious, on the Marina, and could accommodate the hundreds of visitors who wanted to meet this monk seemed to have strengthened their belief in themselves. The Madras Reception Committee said, in its welcome address, "...we come to offer you the love of our hearts and to give expression to our feeling of thankfulness for the services which you, by the grace of God, have been able to render to the great cause of Truth by proclaiming India's ancient and lofty religious ideals." So tumultuous was that reception that Vivekananda's words could not be heard by many of the nearly 10,000 strong crowd that attended. Their consolation was that they could look forward to a few more opportunities to listen to him over the next few days in their city. 

Vivekananda stayed in Madras for nine days. The enthusiasm which he generated was reason enough for an enterprising publisher from the city to put together a volume of his lectures. And somewhere in those lectures, he exhorted the young men of the city to build their strength, for a life of religiosity needed a strong body. He said, "First of all, our young men must be strong. Religion will come afterwards. Be strong, my young friends; that is my advice to you. You will be nearer to Heaven through football than through the study of the Gita." Wonder which of those approaches have gained popularity now!

Peacock dance

Dusk falls at the Kapaleeswarar Temple. The temple gopuram is outlined with lights, which is not unusual. But what is unusual is the stage in front, and the dancers. 

We are back at the Mylapore Festival and on the last day of the festival, we caught a version of the mayilattam; the dance of the peacocks, the birds the place is named after!

Pass me the card

We have seen cheaters at card games, but not like this. Bridging the real and the make-believe, the 3D gallery at the VGP Amusement Complex makes for an interesting half-hour or so of viewing. All the works here - mostly paintings, but there are a few other installations, as well - are fashioned as trompe l'oeils. Paintings that seem to be more than what they are have been around for quite a few centuries, but they continue to intrigue and amaze us. 

The trick at this gallery is to make sure you become part of the exhibits. Without the real life interaction, they are quite bland. But almost always there is a crowd milling around; even if you are not amused by the pictures, the reaction of visiting children will certainly leave you with a smile. 

Every picture tricks the eye, to twist something that René Magritte might have said. And it is interesting that the Magritte Museum is itself something of a trompe l'oeil!

Royal board

This must have been one of the original signs erected when a part of Madras was renamed Raja Annamalaipuram, after the passing away of the first Raja of Chettinad. That title was given to him by the British, in 1929, in addition to the knighthood that was awarded to him six years earlier.

In gazette notification announcing his knighthood, he is addressed as "Diwan Bahadur Sathappa Chettiar Ramanathan Chettiar Muthiah Chettiar Annamalai Chettiar Avargal, Banker, Madras". Even de-duping the Chettiars in that leaves a lot of letters to be written; replacing the "Diwan Bahadur" with "Raja" helped, but even then, it would have been quite a task to find a board indicating the name of this locality had anyone insisted on the full title! 

Dedicated service

Quick, who was the first woman sheriff of Madras? For all I know, she may have been the only woman sheriff of Chennai ever. That is Padma Vibhushan Mary Clubwala Jadhav, one of the city's most revered social workers and an early member of the Guild of Service, which is arguably the country's oldest voluntary service organization. She was born in Ooty in 1909 and died in Mumbai (then Bombay) in 1975. The years in between were mostly spent in Madras, where she became the moving spirit and the visible face of the Guild of Service. 

By the time of India's independence, the Guild of Service was an organisation of formidable repute: Rajendra Prasad, India's first President also became the Guild's Patron-in-Chief; over the years, that almost became an ex-officio position. As she tried to move social work from being "time-pass" into a structured, systematic activity. As much as the Guild opened up areas such as refugee rehabilitation, care for the destitute, foundling homes and such like, Mary Clubwala Jadhav also emphasised the need for a feeder system. That was how the Madras School of Social Work came to be established. 

Recognition came regularly; in 1935 she was appointed Honorary Presidency Magistrate for Madras, responsible for the Juvenile Court, a position that she held for the rest of her life, being re-appointed 15 times. In 1946, the Government of Madras nominated her to the Legislative Council, which they did again in 1952 and in 1954. In 1956, she was appointed the Sheriff of Madras, thereby becoming the first woman Sheriff of the city, to go with the honour of having been the first woman to be Honorary Presidency Magistrate. When she received that position, in 1935, she was but 26 years old. But that should not be surprising; though the Guild of Service was founded by Mrs Waller (the wife of Bishop Waller), it is said that Mary "joined hands with her" in starting it. The Guild dates its origin to 1923; it is unlikely that a 14-year old could be instrumental in its inception. Even so, given her dedication to the Guild, it is no wonder that she went on to receive the MBE from the British; the Padma Vibhushan came much later, in 1975, the same year that she passed away - still in service!

Forlorn museum

When one think of museums in Chennai, the first one to come to mind has to be the Government Museum at Egmore, with its fabled bronze gallery. And then, you might recall that there is a museum within Fort St George. If you are a fan of the railways, then you would probably put the Rail Museum at the top of your list. And you may somewhere, in the back of your mind, imagine that there might be some specialised museums, such as those for Ramanujan, or Vivekananda. 

A museum for the Public Works Department may not even make your list. But there is one such, inside the PWD Estate in Chepauk. It is a library-and-museum rolled into one, and commemorates the 150th anniversary of the PWD. That dates the museum to 2008, for it was in 1858 that Lord Dalhousie, the Governor General, consolidated various departments into a single PWD in each of the Presidencies. In Madras, it meant the coming together of three major departments: the Maramath department (works relating to irrigation, buildings, waterways, smaller roads and bridges), the Trunk Roads department and the Engineering department. The remit of the Madras Presidency's PWD spread over Tamil Nadu, Malabar, Andhra and into today's Odisha.

Considering that extent, it is surprising that the PWD has been able to fit in 150 years of its history into this rather small, hexagonal building; maybe they haven't been able to get all that organized enough, which may be the reason why this library-museum is almost unknown. There is little indication of the museum hours; that bundled up figure at the top of the steps may be able to guide us, but for the moment, it is unconcerned with our presence!

Unexpected boating

If you happen to talk about old Madras to someone who was around during the 1960s and 1970s, they would most probably have a story to tell about how they went boating in the Cooum in those days. Heck, I would spin a tale too, about how I used to see the boathouses along the river, with boats tied up, waiting for a good bunch of people to gather before being taken out for a spin. But somehow, I haven't had, or heard, of any boats on the Adyar river.

It has been a very long time since a boat has been seen on any of Chennai's waterways. Looking out from one of the office buildings in MRC Nagar, overlooking the northward curve of the Adyar river, I noticed what seemed to be a right regular ferry service. On the eastern bank, a spit of land almost fords the river. But it still leaves the river too broad (and likely too deep) to walk across, while also being too narrow to contemplate a kind of permanent connecting structure.

The ferry service - more like a skiff, with a couple of planks thrown together and supported by a crossbeam - can handle only 2 or 3 passengers at a time. But hey, the crossing can be done in less than a minute, and so there not going to be many complaints from those waiting!

Not a ghost

The Vaishnavaite tradition of south India recognises twelve azhwars as being the foremost of Vishnu's devotees. The earliest of them are believed to have lived in the fourth millennium BCE. The azhwars expressed their devotion mainly through poetry; because most of their verses gained popularity during the Bhakti movements of the 7th and 8th centure CE, it is easier to defend the proposition that they lived during that time and not, as legend would have it, almost 5,000 years earlier.

Because there were only twelve azhwars, it is slightly easier to memorise their names, especially when there are sixythree nayanmars on the Shaivite side of the divide. Even so, in trying to mug up those azhwar names, there was a hurdle; not that they were difficult to remember, but the names would bring to mind other, frightening associations. The second and third azhwars were Bhoodathazhwar and Peyyazhwar, both names being synonymous with ghosts and so were accorded even more respect, and at a different level.

Through all that, the idea of the azhwars were remote, that they were not only temporally but also spatially in a different zone. It was something of a shock to see this gate, leading to a shrine, in the busy Arundale Street in Mylapore. The sign on it says "The site of Peyyazhwar's avatar", indicating his birthplace. But the approach and the shrine, appearing to be largely ignored, indicate Peyyazhwar's presence here in a rather ghostly fashion!

Mutual benefit

We have seen a couple of institutions similar to The Triplicane Permanent Fund Limited earlier - in Mylapore and in Purasawalkam. Those are much older; in fact, the TPFL is still in its 'nervous nineties', having been set up only in 1926. It is not even the oldest in Triplicane; that place would probably go to the SMSO Permanent Nidhi Ltd, which is in its 136th year. And that is much bigger in terms of its book size as well.

The TPFL is a very modest institution - its business volume would have been less than Rs.100 crores in the last year. Though it has only six branches, they are well distributed across the city; and hopefully, they would cover all the existing members of the fund. Intra-city migration would have seen a large number of Triplicane-ites moving to other parts of Chennai, but will continue to remain members of this mutual-benefit society.

And that is also the reason why this firm, despite being headquartered in Triplicane, does not have anyone from that locality in its management team!

The Eater's Digest - 11

It has been quite a few posts since the last Eater's Digest came up - and because there was a craving for beef last evening, this one had to be today's post. A generation ago, Kalpaka on TTK Road was the place to go for beef - especially the Syrian Beef Fry, as it used to be called. Funnily enough, that name never evoked any association with the middle east, but the very mention called to mind the flavours of Kerala. That's where the Kalpaka Beef Fry was born, from the Syrian Christian kitchens of that state.

Kalpaka was of course a Malayali kitchen. That meant Kerala porottas and aapams for sure, with a bunch of dishes that you could find in pretty much any restaurant. But what was impossible to replicate was the peppery-coconutty combination of the gravies, which has been the signature taste of the Malabar coast. And in the 1990s it was possible on occasion to smuggle in some nice Old Monk to go with the food; the tradition of Malayalees being able to hold their drink was never contradicted at Kalpaka. 

These days, you cannot get the Syrian Beef Fry at Kalpaka. The price of political correctness, possibly, has led to the dish appearing as Kalpaka Beef Fry. Must go back to try it, so reassure myself that 20-odd years cannot change the taste of that signature dish from the Suriani kitchens. If you would like to try that for yourself, this may be a good place to start!

Dance bars

All those air-conditioning units sticking out from this building seem to corroborate the claim on the board; yes, see, we indeed have air-conditioning, can't you see us all hanging out together at the A/C Bar? Although there are about 3,000 bars attached to the TASMAC outlets across the state, there are only about 600 of them that are air-conditioned. So that is certainly an attraction for patrons to visit this bar. 

But there was a time when no additional words was necessary for patrons to know what "PALS" had to offer. There were few places in the city where one could go to watch cabaret dances. Hotels such as Oceanic or Savera were at the high-end of this scale, but there were others as well, those which did not advertise their shows. Therefore, it was left to the school-boy's (or even college-goer's) imagination to visualise the dances at Pals, or Hotel Arun - the most popular names of that sector.

Today, there are no dance bars in Chennai. Oceanic's buildings have been pulled down. Savera shows no trace of ever having had dances on the premises. Hotel Arun has been built over by the Ampa Skywalk. Other bars have all had their names replaced with TASMAC authorised serial numbers. Maybe even this one does not have a name to it, for the TASMAC board just says 834. But the sign above it certainly recalls a part of Madras that has sadly disappeared, and Chennai has never ever known!

Thrice-born

It is New Year's Day and I'm going to break with the tradition of posting the 'Photo of the Year'* today; I'm going further, to talk about someone who was not merely a dwijan by heritage, but a trijan (if there is such a term), by having had two re-births his career, one that defined his life. That career was born in 1904-5 when a boy of nine performed at a Srikrishna Temple in Palakkad. As the boy grew to adolescence, the voice that had captivated his listeners must have broken in a way that threatened his singing career; there is little detail on how he got past that setback and was re-born into his singing life. Maybe that was how he developed a resonant voice, so striking that he was on occasion referred to as "bronze-voiced". 

More serious was the second occasion. That bronze voice, now belonging to a seasoned and respected singer, was in full flow at a concert; at the end, its owner realised that he had lost it. And he then had to endure six months of suspense, during which period various remedies were tried; finally, the voice came back - thanks to the intervention of Sri Guruvayoorappan, his favourite deity. That was his third life, the one in which every paisa that he made from his concerts went directly to the Srikrishna Temple at Guruvayoor. It is beyond today's imagination to think of performing the Udayasthamana Puja there (bookings are no longer being taken because the current list runs for about forty years or something) even once, but he was able to do it sixty-one times. 

Much of his recognition came from Madras; it was here, from this house on (then) Palace Road, Santhome, that he taught his disciples. Many of them are famous in their own right - P. Leela, the Jaya-Vijaya twins, TV Gopalakrishnan and KJ Yesudas. It was from the thinnai of this house that their careers began. The house itself was given to him by TG Krishna Iyer, a friend who had composed 155 kritis, collectively known as Lalitha Dasar Krithigal. In October of 1974, he went back to perform at Poozhikunnu Srikrishna Temple at Ottapalam, where he had, 70 years ago, had his debut. After that performance, he just slipped off his mortal coils while performing his sandhyavandanam - going the way he always wished to. Srikrishna was kind to him; and why wouldn't he be, for Chembai Vaidyanatha Bhagavatar was as close to a saint as any mortal can ever aspire to be!

*The community of City Daily Photographers celebrates Theme Day every month. Go over to this site to see the best pictures from around the world!

Lobby at leisure

This appears to be the verandah of a summer house, waiting quietly for its inhabitants to saunter through it for lunch in one of the more shaded areas. Not for it the hustle and bustle of people running around in search of - well, whatever it is that they would run in search of. It invites you to sit down, relax and exchange stories about what is going on around the world, and your opinion on those goings-on.

That is what actually goes on behind those heavy wooden doors. There are a few clues out there for you to guess where this is. The picture above the doors: on the left, the original holy cow, Kamadhenu, representing auspiciousness. On the right, the elephant, indicating strength and power. In between the two, grass (for new growth), the lotus (purity and independence), the Indian subcontinent (harking back to the pre-Independence days) and the sun, a source of vital energy. In the centre, the conch reminding everyone that this organisation carries the voice of the people, and is the announcer of vital news.

Yes, this is one of the lobbies in Kasturi Buildings, the home of "The Hindu". In case all those clues were not enough for you to have guessed it, there are portraits of two of the former Managing Directors of Kasturi & Sons: Narasimhan and Kasturi. Maybe it is difficult to be footloose and fancy-free under their stern gaze. In any case, "The Hindu" is not known for its frivolity or frothy reporting - and we are so much the better for it!

Model school?

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

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

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

Everyone's posing

Just because this seemed too good to pass up, on the sidewalk of the Marina.

They should have given the photographer a pair of shades, as well!