Your move

It has been nearly a year since the Russia-Ukraine war began. Chennai was affected by that in many ways, especially with medical students from the city having to return early on, with the changes in fuel prices affecting everyone across the world and with re-routing of air and sea routes affecting supply chains marginally. 

One of the positive fallouts was the shift of the 44th FIDE Chess Olympiad. Originally scheduled to be held in Moscow (it had been moved there from Khanty-Mansiysk, Russia), it became untenable in the wake of the conflict. Chennai stepped up to pitch for hosting rights, and won, thanks in part to its sustained legacy of chess champions. 

In the run-up to the event, many parts of the city went 'colourless' - rather, they just went bi-colour. People were worried that this chessboard pattern on bridges (and some roads) would distract drivers and cause accidents. Thankfully, it seems to have got people to concentrate better on their moves!

 

Fullish moon

From a few months ago, close to the northern end of the beach at Besant Nagar.

Would the beach be better without the high-mast lights? I guess so, but then, a whole lot of people have to make sure it stays that way for everyone!

Top cop the first

A couple of days ago, I was wondering about the first Indian to be the mayor of ChennaiMadras. By some coincidence, I came across this photo of the first Indian to have become the Commissioner of Police of Madras. Both those appointments were from roughly the same time-frame; T. Vijayaraghavacharya served as mayor of Madras in 1916, while the first Indian top-cop of the city took charge in 1919. 

Pasupuleti Parankusam Naidu was born in 1867. When he was 20, he joined the service of the Government of Madras as a clerk in the Water-works Department. But it appears that the young Parankusam was fascinated by the police force, and after three years of dealing with waterworks, he goes off and joins the police. Even if it was at probably the lowest level of the cadre, he was now an officer - a 4th Grade Inspector of Police. Over the next twenty years, he appears to have served with distinction (though I've not been able to access any official records), and in 1911, we see him as the Deputy Commissioner of Police. 

And then, the wait seems to have gone on for a while. Parankusam Naidu's next promotion was in 1919, when he broke the white-plaster ceiling to be the first Indian Commissioner of the city's police force. The Dewan Bahadur title came later, most probably after he retired from service. When that was, or what Parankusam Naidu did subsequently seems to be a mystery even the Chennai Police might shy away from!

 

Why's the twist?

On Musiri Subramaniam Road, just before you turn off to Vivekananda College on your left, you should open a keen eye to your right. That way, you will spot this rather non-descript shop at the corner where you would turn to get to the Luz Church. The shop is a throwback to the 70s and 80s, run by two gruffly-friendly brothers who seem to have been there forever. In recent times, they have a younger helper and post-covid, they seem to have spruced up the signage with a fresh coat, even if the shop itself remains as it has always been. 

Speaking to the young man, I learnt that the shop has a formal name: "Lakshmi Cool Bar". GoogleMaps tries to be more helpful by adding that it is also called "Mani kadai" (Mani's shop). Neither of those names feature in this board, according to which the shop is "Oliver Twist"!

Apparently, the younger of the two brothers was a voracious reader in his youth, and Charles Dickens was a favourite author. He was therefore insistent on getting a Dickensian connection to the store's name. The sharp turn in the road is the inspiration for the 'Twist'. But can you guess why 'Oliver'? Ah, yes, that's correct: before it was given its current name, the road was called Oliver Road! 

The man behind the sun

Chennai got back to having a mayor in 2022, after almost 6 years of it being suspended; many believe the current mayor, Priya Rajan is the first woman mayor of Chennai. That honour however, goes to Tara Cherian, who served a term from December 1957 to November 1958. And then there was Kamakshi Jayaraman, who was the mayor of the city during 1971-72. With the post now being reserved for women, it will be a long while before Chennai gets to see a male mayor again, if at all. So here is something about one man who was the city's mayor.

Thamarapakkam Sundara Rao Naidu was born in 1891. A lawyer by training, he involved himself in social causes, joining the Justice Party in the 1920s. He was captivated by the movies, but he seems to have been more interested in their potential for communicating social messages than merely as a business. In the 1940s, he acquired a cinema hall, which continued to function until the '90s, well after Sundara Rao passed away in 1949. 

The Corporation of Chennai, having been established in 1688, is the second such in the world. Sundara Rao's tenure as mayor came a good 30 years after that post was first held by an Indian. However, he was the city's mayor when India became independent in 1947; there is a park named in his honour in Egmore. I am not sure if his statue is in that park, but this one can be seen at Sun Plaza, where he once had his cinema hall!

 

Time to take-off?

Granted, the only Chennai thing about this is the location. This particular airline was one of the earliest off the blocks when the aviation sector was opened up in 1993; it was one that stayed on for quite a long while, even becoming the largest domestic carrier by passenger volume in 2010. And through the 2010s, it continued to hold on to its full-service philosophy, when the markets boomed with LCCs - the low-cost-carriers trying to squeeze revenue out of everything possible.

Jet Airways' fall to bankruptcy was quite rapid, bringing up once again the old saw about how the easiest way to become a millionaire is to start with a billion and buy an airline. Maybe it was good for them that they were non-operational during the pandemic; but in a cut-throat sector, it might be a big challenge for the airline to come back after a 4-year break. (Has it been only 4-years? It feels like a generation ago!)

Their plans for restarting are not going at the pace they expected; but it would be good to have one more option for the Indian skies - so here is hoping they are able to fly again soon!

Festival returns

The Sundaram Finance Mylapore Festival got back after a 2-year break and yesterday was the last day of this edition. 

Having been away from Chennai over the weekend, I do not have any photos of this year's festival to offer. You should be able to find quite a few of those here, eventually. 

What I have for you is a picture from the festival a few years ago; this year's kolam competition was (as usual, I guess) restricted to 75 participants. The whole of North Mada Street would have been given over to these traditional designs - only pulli kolams are allowed!

The more things change...

If Wallace Misquith was to time-travel from 1842 to the current day, he would not give a second glance to this display in the foyer of the Sathguru Gnanananda Hall on TTK Road. His firm, set up in 1842 in Coonoor where he had some good business as a piano tuner, was styled Misquith & Co. The idea was to import 'music saloons, pianos and organs' to supply those who were partial to western music - and there would have been many even in those days. From Coonoor, Misquith branched out to Madras, and then to 14 other locations, including Bangalore, Vishakapatnam, Mandalay and Penang. Wallace died in 1888 and his son Wille took over the business. A spell of ill-health seems to have sent Misquith & Co., into a spiral (it must have been several years after its founding) and we see a Frenchman, (Edgar Allen) Prudhomme buying out the Madras branch sometime in the 1920s.

M. Prudhomme was not a musical person; but he seems to have been a shrewd businessman. His first task was to rebrand the firm as Musée Musical. He then got on board Mrs. Amy de Rozario, a British lady of Spanish origin as a Director. Mrs. de Rozario was the music teacher at Doveton Corries and Church Park at the time. I daresay she had a captive market for the instruments being imported - business boomed and a third partner / Director was brought in - Mr. M.Giridhar Doss, with a diploma in accountancy, was soon taking most of the load of running the business and servicing customers which by now included even the Governor or Madras. 

As we get into the 40s, we see Mrs. de Rozario preparing to go back to England; of M. Prudhomme's clan, there is no news. Musée Musical is now with Mr. Giridhar Doss, who brings in his son Haricharan Das to help him with it. Though trained as a lawyer, Haricharan moved completely into running the business after his father passed away in 1966. The business had also diversified. All kinds of music instruments were available here, and its partnership with the Trinity College dates from the early 1900s. Today, Musée Musical counts Veena Balachandar, L Subramanian, Karikudi Mani, GV Prakash and the Grammy + Academy Award winner A.R.Rahman among its alumni. And so, the only thing that Wallace Misquith might recognise in this display is the city's name - but even that is an anachronism!

The shop that never moved

For at least 45 years, the address 4-6/181, Kutchery Road had only one occupant, one so famous that no one needed the address to find it. It was the fixed point on the Kutchery Road compass, the only true north that one needed to navigate that road.

The Dabba Chetty Shop started its business with a slightly different spelling, as you can make out from the photo. It was spelt 'Dubba', then, and it didn't start off with the country (herbal) medicines that it later became synonymous with. Krishnaswamy Chetty tried his hand at selling hardware and assorted equipment, when he set up the shop in 1885. But he seems to have very quickly pivoted to purveying herbal medicines, including concoctions made of his own research. It is not very clear if the existence of such an outlet spurred Chetty's Iyer namesake to start his Ayurveda dispensary a little further along Kutchery Road, or if it was the dispensary that helped Chetty's shop gain prominence. In any event, from about 1905 onwards, this was the go-to place for 'delivery lehiyam' (post-natal medicines) and Deepavali lehiyams (to offset the heaviness of over-indulging in festival sweets). Krishnaswamy Chetty used to store the various powders and other ingredients in tin boxes, neatly stacked over each other; that led to the store's colloquial name, which in a stroke of genius, was adopted as its brand.

Krishnaswamy Chetty, Rajamannar Chetty and then Kanniah Chetty; the shop passed from grandfather to grandson, and then, in the 1970s to Kanniah's son Koonala Badrinath, who runs the shop with his wife Shobana. He had no intention of moving from here; in fact, in the many years since this picture was taken (2016), he had put up an awning over the signboard and modernised the space a bit for customers to be able to walk in. But two weeks ago, on Christmas eve, a notice was pasted on the shutter, saying the shop has moved to No. 9, North Mada Street. Just a little distance away, of course, but there is no saying if it would be able to move back. That is entirely in the way the Chennai Metro comes up on Kutchery Road!

A New Tree

It must have been quite a bold decision to go with this design for a Christmas Tree. One is accustomed to thinking of lush dark green pines, spruce, firs or cypress at Christmas time. Evergreen conifers, whose branches form helixes or whorls around the central trunk, their leaves having evolved into thin green needles. From what I can recall, the options for such trees in India, especially in south India are limited. The country's north has a few species of pine, or cypress, which can be a very nice Christmas tree. Far too often, an artificial tree substitutes for a real one. 

Tamil Nadu's state tree, the palmyra (Borassus flabellifer), on the other hand, can't pass of as any kind of a conifer. The tree has no branches and its leaves grow directly from the trunk, falling off as they get old, leaving their marks behind on the trunk. A fully grown tree, holding its crown of leaves right at the top is distinctly different from the conifers' foliage, which envelopes almost the entire trunk. The leaves of the palmyra too, have 'needles' - sharp black teeth on the petioles (the stalk that attaches the leaf to the trunk / branch of a tree), but the leaf itself is large, fan like, and as far different different from the needles as possible.

So, to see a Christmas tree made of palmyra leaves was a pleasant surprise. It is an artificial tree, not the traditional dark, or striking green, the leaves are fan-like, rather than needle-like, but with all of that, this tree in the lobby of the ITC Grand Chola was created to demonstrate the 'sustainability' theme. The gift boxes under the tree were kottans and koodais made by weaving together tender fronds of the palmyra are again very different from the traditional boxes wrapped in bright gift-wrap paper. Quite apart from all that, let us hope the palmyra goes back to being as plentiful as it used to be at one time!

Classic

This is one of the first images of Mamallapuram that one encountered as a school-kid a few decades ago. The state-government-supplied school notebooks had a closer view of the two elephants on its cover; I don't remember that series of notebooks as having anything else of 'Mahabs'. And for many years, this was the closest that one got to Mahabalipuram / Mahabs in school. Roughly 60 km south of Chennai, this seashore town was not easy to access in the 70s and early 80s; a visit there meant the whole day would have to be budgeted for. Mahabs has become closer these days. One can set out early in the morning and be back home for lunch. But with so many more dining options available all the way between Chennai and Mamallapuram, it is not easy to get back home for lunch. Somehow, one gets the feeling that such ease of access has made us rather blasé about this - it was among the first in India to be inscribed in UNESCO's List - World Heritage Site. 

This particular structure was commissioned by the Pallava king Narasimhavarman (Mamallan) to celebrate his victory over Pulakesi of the Chalukyas in the late 7th century CE. (The shore temple, also part of the UNESCO list, was built later, in the 8th century). Strangely though, the popular names for this do not have any reference to Mamallan's victory. A natural cleft in the rock, around which most of the figures have been chiseled, allowed water to gush through during the monsoons (There is supposedly a tank at the top of the cleft, but I believe that to be a more modern addition; I'm willing to be corrected, though!), giving this its international name: the Descent of the Ganges. A hermit-like figure, standing on one leg, arms raised in prayer could then be Bhagirata, whose unflinching austerities convinced Ganga to come down to earth. But then, Siva seems to also have the Pashupatastra with him, so that sage might also depict Arjuna supplicating Siva for that weapon; hence, we know this also as Arjuna's Penance. 

Siva, Bhagirata/Arjuna, Ganga, the elephants; these are just few of the images. With over 100 other individual bas-relief sculptures making up this monument, there are possibly a lot of stories that can be extracted from them. The guides at Mamallapuram will happily tell you a whole lot of them - and with a little bit of imagination, you possibly can, too. The presence of a lot of frolicking monkeys nudges me to think of the Tirukutrala Kuravanji, no matter that it came about a millennium later!

Forgotten five face

A percussion instrument is called an 'Avanaddha Vadyam' in India. It seems logical to assume that such instruments, played by the performer striking on a taut membrane stretched over a hollow space, can have at most two sides, or faces, to them. But before we jump to that conclusion, let us gently stretch through the different categories of avanaddha vadyams; played by hand, by sticks, using both hands and sticks, struck on one side and stroked on the other, and those that are self-struck. (Maybe an additional category, for the 'stringed percussion' instrument - the bhapang is sui generis, I believe). 

Even the bhapang is a two-sided instrument, and is not one seen very often. An even rarer sight is the panchamukha vadyam, literally the five-faced instrument. I haven't seen one played, ever. For that, I am told that one has to go to Tiruvarur, where it is played during the Trinity Music Festival. Legend has it that the panchamukha vadyam has its origins in the kudamuzham, which was played at the wedding of Siva and Parvati. Looking very much like a pot, the kudamuzham has a large central, circular opening with 4 smaller such openings around it. Hoary literature also has it being one of the instruments played when Nataraja performed the celestial dance. Sculptures from the Rashtrakuta (8th-10th century CE) and Chalukya (10th-12th century CE)  periods show the kudamuzham being played by Nandi, or one of the other Bhutaganas. 

Over the next couple of centuries, the kudamuzham seems to have evolved into the panchamukha vadyam; the five faces became more or less the same size (the central one a tad larger, sometimes), they were named after Siva's five aspects (faces): sadyojatam, isanam, tatpurusham, aghoram and vamadevam. There is some way of distinguishing which is which, because the performer is supposed to stand on the side of the vamadevam while playing this instrument. One day, I will get to see it being played; until then, watching this exhibit at the Tol Isai Kalanjiyam will have to do!

Memory remains

In 1718, Arumugam, the son of a Cuddalore merchant, was forced to leave his family and move to Tarangambadi. Arumugam had earlier studied at the Mission School in Cuddalore and had been influenced by books on Christianity; in Tarangambadi, he was baptized by Ziegenbalg, the first Lutheran missionary in India. Arumugam took on the name S. Aaron - the S most likely referencing Savarimuthu, the teacher who introduced him to Christianity. Savarimuthu was also one of the candidates, along with Aaron, who was considered to be ordained as the first native pastor; the teacher withdrew his candidature in favour of his student. Thus, in 1733, Aaron became the first Indian protestant pastor.

Aaron's great-grandson seems to have taken after him. In 1863, we see William Thomas Sathianadhan being assigned to the Chintadripet Church. He established himself in this position, and seems to have done much for the people to remember him by.  After his passing, the Chintadripet Church - by now renamed the Zion Church - constructed a meeting hall in his memory.

Going down the Arunachala Mudali Street in Chintadripet today, you will most likely miss this building; it stands way too close to the road and you would rather pay attention to the traffic than let your eyes wander up this facade. But if you choose to pause, and wonder, I am sure it will be worth your time!

Going Dutch

If, as they say, Madharasapatnam was the original name of the city that was once called Madras, what would you imagine Sadurangapattinam was known as? Even though it was not the British who discovered this place, their fellow colonists adapted this town's name, referring to it as Sadras, before settling down to build a fort to protect their factory here.

Even though it was the Dutch who took the lead (after the Portuguese, of course) in building trading settlements along the east coast, they discovered Sadras about a decade after Cogan and Day had set up their factory at Madras. The Sadras Fort was set up in 1648. Compared to Fort St George, this fort at Sadras is a very spartan affair; thin redbricks packed in place with mud seems to have been the default option for the walls of the Sadras Fort and buildings inside it. Very few of those buildings remain standing; those that do seem to have served as warehouses or granaries. There is also a dilapidated elephant mounting (or loading?) station. But for the most part, the space enclosed by the fort's walls is bare and the walls themselves do not look like they could survive a sustained onslaught.

And the fort gate. Unlike Fort St George, with its multiple gates, the Sadras Fort has only one, on the landward side. It is quite easily accessed from the road; the two cannons at the gate remind you it was once a much coveted spot, which moved from Dutch hands to the British in the early 19th century and remained with them until 1947. Today, there are no tourists here. The ASI does a fair job of keeping it the way it is. It is likely that the bulk of the visitors to this fort would be folks who come to the nearby Madras Atomic Power Station, who look up to the two bastions on the seaward side and take the effort to explore the other side!

 

Newness!

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

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

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

 

History house

There is a house next to the Parthasarathy Temple at Triplicane which has, by a rough estimate, about 500,000 people pass through it on an annual basis. Actually, most of them go through the front room of the house during the ther (chariot) festival at the temple, because the idol of the deity is taken through this house in to the chariot. While it was once a thatch roof, the front of the house is now properly covered with a concrete roof, thus protecting the devotees much better than before.

This house has not only been associated with religion, but also with the fervour of the freedom struggle. It pre-dates the formation of the Indian National Congress; the house was built in 1877, 8 years before the Congress was founded. The house was built by Thirumalacharya, a descendant of one of the Pradhans of the Mysore Wodeyars. Thirumalacharya was a vakil and probably in that capacity had become close to the Nawab of the Carnatic. The Nawab gifted a set of six carved pillars that even today frame the main corridor of this house.

Thirumalacharya's son was a fan of the Buddha and at his insistence, the house was named Gautamashrama. This plaque in the covered front room of the house is a much later addition, dating to 1984. It proudly proclaims that this is a 'hallowed house', having hosted luminaries like Vivekananda, Bal Gangadhar Tilak, Mahatma Gandhi, Bipin Chandra Pal, as also many others who lived closer to Madras, such as V.O.Chidambaram Pillai, Subramaniam Siva and Subramania Bharati who lived but a few streets away,  Sadly, this house is emptied of its good folk - the current generation has mostly moved away from Triplicane - and may soon be just a page in the book of history!

Eight elephants

This wall, with bas-reliefs of truncated-tusked elephants, is an enduring image of the Theosophical Society's headquarters at Adyar. The elephant seems to be a recurring theme with the TS, at least of late. In their newsletter of December 2015, the TS takes inspiration from the elephant to be "strong and patient at the same time", for the elephant is thoughtful and relies on its patience to accomplish what it needs. That the elephant is long-lived, and a herd animal is a bonus, probably meant to invoke the legacy of the Theosophists. 

It is interesting that when the TS decided to launch its fund-raising drive, for the renovation of the buildings within the headquarters, they named the main renovation site "The Elephants". If you would like to contribute to the cause, you need to head over here!

Just because

As far as I can make out, this marriage hall was renamed only after 2014; before that, it was called the Hema Malini Kalyana Mantapam. I am not sure if the "dream girl" had anything to do with the property, but chances that she did are pretty high. The original owner of the property was Justice Somayya, who had built his bungalow on Lloyds Road. After his time, the bungalow became the place for conducting dream weddings. 

And this post comes up because we are going to this hall for a wedding reception tomorrow. Even if it has been a few years after the name changed to SVR Mantapam, map locations continue to refer to it as "formerly Hema Malini Mantapam"!

Chariot at rest

We have read of the Parthasarathy Temple earlier, with its tower in the distance, or about its chariot festival. And we also got to see the chariot's wheels up close. 

So here is the chariot itself, decked out with the thombais and the thoranams, the final touches being put in place by the priests.

I've always felt that, much more than for any chariot festival of other temples, the one at the Triplicane must be special. After all, the deity is Himself a chairoteer, right?

Loving life

Once again, it is "Theme Day" for the City Daily Photo gang, and this month's theme is "Loving life". 

Mountains, or beaches? I'm greedy enough to want both, but it is rather difficult to find the former within Chennai. The beaches, on the other hand, are a favourite spot for Chennai's citizens. The only thing that could be more fun than doing cartwheels on the beach is to end those with a dive into the water.

Just that over the past couple of weeks, with the jallikattu protests and the oil spill, the beach has had a jolt; but it will be back, like it always has!