I made a quick trip to Chennai aka Madras last month on the inaugural run of the double decker train between Chennai and Bangalore and here is what I found. On a dull morning, we saw several flamingos in the marshes of Pallikarnai. This is a first for me as I have not seen flamingos before in Madras.
A quick weekend to Madras aka Chennai and I was in for a surprise. Pat did I land there and I got a call from Vivanta by Taj - Connemara asking me if I was free to join them for lunch at the Chettinad restaurant Raintree for the 125th anniversary of Glenfiddich in India. The Taj was creating the meal experience and the whole conversation over lunch veered around pairing Indian food with whisky.
Although I was the only vegetarian around, the food was spicy and went with the whole flavour. Distiller Ian Millar, the global ambassador from Glenfiddich was here with us, getting a taste of spicy Indian food and he was probably the only European I had met in recent times who seemed to be in love with it. We sampled a 12 year old and a 15 year old single malt as Millar cradled the glass in his hand, warming it, asking us to drop a few drops of water in it as we savoured it . And it was bliss indeed !
Two decades ago, I started my stint in media as a gawky teenager working after college hours in one of the first community newspapers started in Madras. I got a mail from the paper today asking me to write something for their 20th anniversary. Thank you Anna Nagar Times, Mr. Ramakrishnan and of course, my first boss Vincent D Souza all I can say is thank you.. Here is the article that was published in the community newspaper last week. It was the summer of 1992 and I remember a college professor asking me if I was interested in working for a community newspaper that was going to start soon in Annanagar. I was a gawky teenager, looking for an experience outside academics . I nodded my head vigorously without even knowing where Anna Nagar featured in the map of Madras, now Chennai. Little did I know that my decision would take me on a roller coaster journey into media . I had no formal education in journalism and everything I learnt was on the roads of Annanagar, through Vincent and Mr. Ramakrishnan. I was called a cub reporter and then a founder reporter, but it was the first start up experience of my life that laid the foundation of my media career . One of my earliest memories of working in ANT (as we fondly call it) was a visit to the police station. I was on the crime beat and it was the first time I walked into a police station. I was hardly nervous (I don�t know if that was my youth or the power of the press) while the police were amused to see a young teenager asking questions . It was a case regarding a thief who was stealing dogs from the city and a few dogs had gone missing from Annanagar as well. The inspector was happy that we were featuring cases and stories that were not written about in the mainline newspapers. A few days later, he called me to tell me that the thief had been arrested and he asked me to come over to the station. For the first time I saw the thief in custody , who was pleading with the cops, besides confessing to them. The inspector told me that it was a huge racket and he was happy that we were following the case. Besides journalism , ANT taught me the meaning of the word � community�. It was not just news, for the paper stood for the emotions of the community. The smiles of the students who did well in the exams , the relief on the faces of the residents whose civic issues were highlighted, local government officers from Metro water ,the police who were lauded for their efforts � all these men and women were our local heroes who were featured on the newspaper. Many a time, my civic stories were picked up by main stream newspapers after reading my articles from ANT. That used to give me immense satisfaction besides the by-line and the modest pay-check at the end of the month. For years to come, ANT became my learning ground and AD 79 was not an office, but an institution.
Come September and the seasons change in most parts of the world. And loads of destinations come into the �season � phase as well. The monsoons will soon get over in most parts of India but it has left behind a lush green country. Readers of this blog are in for a lot of stories this month . We will visit Valparai again and I will publish stories from Naanjil Naadu. In the international scenario, we will visit Asia and Europe . Local festivals and memes like Skywatch and India through my eyes series will continue as well. The furore around Ganesha festival has already hit the streets of Bangalore and I see large idols of the deity all over the place. While I do soak in the energy here, I feel the idols should not be dumped anywhere and everywhere on the streets and pavements . We should ideally have a designated place � maybe a playground in each area where stalls can be set up . The streets have become a mess with garbage and Ganeshas both sharing the same space unfortunately. Meanwhile , August was a great month on Backpacker and I thank you readers for visiting my blog. Stories on Madras did extremely well as the city celebrated its birthday. Its been three years since my last visit to Singapore, but many of you are still interested in my post on the country. Dussera may be a couple of months away, but a lot of you search for golu bommai and land on my post on Navratri. In fact I just picked up a few kondapalli bommais (dolls)for the coming festival. And finally, I always see Chola trail being very popular. I wonder which of these posts will continue to be on the top of the charts in September . So look forward to more of your visits this month. Happy reading, sharing and commenting ! Would love to hear from you.
And yes, I may be travelling too if all goes well..Fingers crossed !
It is Madras Day today- the day, a settlement called Madras aka Fort St George was born more than 350 years ago, courtesy the British. Personally I do not think it is a defining moment in the city's history, but it is interesting to see the way the settlement eventually became the city, adding villages that even date back to the 4th century. It is a city that is both old and new , a city to me that is forever in transition.
Every year around this time, I am happily roaming around the streets of Madras (Chennai), the city I call home , walking with a group or solo, soaking in the ambiance and taking some random photographs .Madras to me is not just about a city or its history, the people and their culture .
It is about a place that nurtured me, gave me an identity and a sense of belonging. It is about a spirit that can never be explained but can only be felt.
Eid Mubarak folks.It is also the beginning of the Madras Week celebrations and my thoughts go down to Chepauk down Wallajah Road. Well it has got nothing to do with cricket though. I did a heritage walk with my friend Anvar around the locality last year and wrote this story on the House of Arcot, which was published in Sunday Herald. On the occasion of Eid and Madras Day, I would like to share this story with you.
Think Carnatic and what plays in your mind is divine classical music. However besides the ragas and thalams, Carnatic also refers to the geographic region in South India, which was once a hot seat of power among various dynasties from the Mughals to the Marathas, from the British to the French and is often associated with the Nawabs of Arcot . A dynasty that started with a siege between the Mughals and the Marathas way back in the 17th century , it lasted for more than 200 years ,but the royal house continues till date with the present Prince, Nawab Mohammad Abdul Ali ,who keeps up the tradition till date .Arcot may have been their seat of power, but Madras or present day Chennai is where their home is.
My tryst with the royal house of Arcot started on a wet Saturday morning in Chennai when I went on a Wallajah trail , led by noted documentary film maker Kombai S. Anvar. The skies were covered with a thick layer of rain clouds waiting to drench the wind swept city. The seas were choppy and the Marinalooked vacant and washed out . As we walked towards the Chepauk palace, Anvar traced for us the history of the dynasty.
It was towards the end of the 17thcentury and the Marathas were trying to establish their base in the South. Aurangazeb, the Mughal emperor sent Zulfikar Khan , an army general to Arcot to contain the Marathas .� The siege was supposed to get over in a few months, but it prolonged for over six years,� said Anvar, adding, � it is probable that Zulfikar Khan was actually in collusion with the Marathas. � He narrated a story.
�A local chieftain ,Yachamma Nayak .wrote in fact a note to Aurangazeb saying your man was fooling you, if I was given the responsibility,I would defeat them in a week�s time. � The letter however was incepted and Zulfikhar Khan invited him over for a meeting without revealing his knowledge of the letter and killed him.� He made it look like an accident , by cutting off the ropes of the tent when the chieftain walked in.� said Anvar. The story however did not end here. Aurangazeb apparently did get to know about the incident after the siege was over and asked Zulfikar Khan to put the young successor of the chieftain on his rightful throne .
The story in many ways is the beginning of the House of Arcot . Zulfikar Khan was appointed as a Nawab of Carnatic , a title given to him by Aurangazeb and is today officially recognized as the first ruler of the dynasty . � We still refer to the Carnatic as Arcot is yet to feature prominently on the political map then ,� added Anvar. �Over the six years, the camp slowly developed into a town and the successors eventually made Arcot their capital.�
The dynasty grew even as the British East India company slowly established its hold in Madras from Fort St George . The Nawabs and the British seemed to share an unlikely friendship, often mutually beneficial to each other . � The stories go that the British used to supply expensive liquor and gifts to the Nawab Daud Khan Panni who in an inebriated state often gave away villages to the British . Sometimes he used to become sober and demand them back too,� said Anvar.
However, his successor Saadatullah Khan or Mohammad Saiyid was a little cautious and preferred to contain the British and wanted to build a rival fort in Mylapore .I learnt that he eventually built one in Kovalam, on the outskirts of Chennai and invited several merchants ,including Armenians and the Belgium East India company. �These were revenue states and they needed to earn money to fund wars and welfare schemes , so trade was really important.. � Anvar explained. Saadutullah Khan also found Saidabad which is today known as Saidapet .Even today if you walk around the area , you will find a mosque, named after him, located right in the heart of the locality.
Anvar continued with a bit of history as we admired the Indo Sarcenic style of the ChepaukPalace.Internal feuds in the royal house took a bloody turn as the British and the French took sides in the war for succession. Robert Clive and Dupleix clashed in these Wars of Carnatic, but eventually , the British succeeded and the most important ruler of the dynasty, Mohammad Ali Wallajah, commonly known as Wallajah came to the throne .
� Wallajah prefered to move to Madras to stay closer to the British and his wish for a palace in Fort St George was granted eventually by the local governors , but the directors in Britaindeveloped cold feet,� explained Anwar ,adding that there is still a Palace Street in Fort St George . Finally, the area around modern day Chepauk was offered to them and a palace was built for them. Even today you can see parts of the palace called Kalas Mahal and Humayan Mahal where the darbar was held .
Our next stop on the trail is the 18thcentury mosque built by Wallajah in Triplicane in Chennai. It is the first time I am entering the premises of the mosque and I see a natural pond formed in front of it .We seemed to be completely cut off from the urban strapping and the chaos of the city as we learnt that this is the second mosque to be built in the city. The dargah of Bahrul Uloom, a highly revered scholar invited by Wallajah to teach in his madrasa is adjacent to the mosque . �Wallajah personally carried the palanquin of the scholar when he entered the city.�said Anwar, drawing our attention to the chronogram which is right in the centre , above the Mihrab .� Wallajah was one of the most secular Nawab. The chronogram that he selected was written by his Hindu Munshi, Makan lal Khirad. . �
The trail took us right into the heart of Mylapore , where Anvar said that the tank of Kapaleeshwar temple was gifted by the Nawabs of Arcot to the temple and even today Muslims use the tank . Wallajah himself was connected to Mylapore in many ways. Wallajah wanted to be buried in Meccan or Trichy, where another sufi saint, Nather Wali�s dargah is located.� However, he was temporarily buried in the dargah of a renowned scholar, Dastageer Sahib , in Mylapore.�
We finally landed at our last point of our trail, at Amir Mahal, the home of the present Prince of Arcot., a sprawling mansion in the heart of the city. After the death of the last Nawab in1855, the house was heavily in debts . The British eventually confiscated their palace and properties and the Nawab�s successors were moved to Shaadi Mahal. �Eventually the Crown recognized the house as Amir I Arcot or Prince of Arcot and they shifted here to Amir Mahal., � said Anvar, adding that the current Nawab still enjoyed certain privileges such as the rank of a state cabinet minister.
The legacy of the house is still left behind in their arts, culture, secularism besides just their monuments . The library built by the Nawabs even today stocks books that were gifted to them by the then Governors of Bengal and kings of Egypt. � There was a time when Triplicane danced to the tunes of courtesans and a street called Ghanabad used to be here where Hindustani music flourished. Why, there is even a story of Nawab . Saadutullah Khan and his noblemen conducting an impromptu mushaira in a church near St Thomas Mount where they wined and dined with the Armenenians, � concluded Anvar as we headed back to the Marina beach.
The milestone says about 50 kms to Pondicherry, when I pass a fish market in Kadapakkam. I take a detour and drive through a lost hamlet surrounded by backwaters. I take another detour and enter the portals of a port lost amidst the ruins, located right next to the seashore. There is no one in sight. Coconut and palm grooves shelter the broken bricks as the rubbles resonate with the glory of the past.
This is the 17th century Alamparai fort also called Alampara or Adamparai. Built during the Mughal era it was ruled by the Nawab of Carnatic and was later on gifted to the French for their support. The British eventually destroyed the fortand the dockyard which was more than 100 metres long.
A rusted ASI board gives us more information. Alamparai, it says was the ancient land of Idaikazhunadu, mentioned in the literary work, Siruppanatruppadai. The sea port was used for trade by the Arcot Nawabs and zari , salt and ghee were exported from here. Coins were minted from here as well and later on the mint was shifted to neighbouring Pondicherry. The mint built on a highway near Alamparai here even housed a Shiva temple, a �choultry � and a pond and was built for the benefit of the travelers coming down this route towards Rameshwaram.
�Do you want to go boating ?� asks a local . The sea looks inviting, but the sun sends me a warning . I decide to give it a pass although the salts of the sea did beckon us.
The last day in 2011 and I leave you with some of my best memories of the two homes that I often shuttle between every year. The distance between the homes however is 360 kms. I am referring to Madras aka Chennai and Bangalore.
2011 was a wonderful year from a travel perspective. I travelled extensively in the South of India - Tamil Nadu, Kerala and of course Karnataka. I had also a variety of travel destinations - birding, wildlife, heritage, people, culture, arts and crafts. I also visited Madhya Pradesh and Uttaranchal for the first time
Internationally one of my best years again - I was invited by Tourism Ireland and then by Jordan Tourism Board
Plenty of travel coming up in 2012 . Meanwhile, here is my last story in 2011 for The Hindu - What traveller type are you ? Do let me know what you guys think..
The Marina Beach in Madras was in a wild fury under the effect of the Cyclone Thane. However I did not carry my camera with me then . This is a photograph of the sea taken in the night with the full moon glowing on it . And my last photograph in 2011 is from my balcony in Bangalore, gazing at the setting sun. I took this photograph the day India won the World Cup in Cricket
To see more photographs and posts, visit my Facebook page on my travels
It is a joke that I spend more time in Chennai aka Madras than in Bangalore. Almost every month, I spend a few days in my hometown. But this trip was special. I revisited several landmarks and went on a few heritage walks during the Madras Day celebrations.
And I finally visited the 18th century Armenian Church in Armenian Street in Parry's Corner. There was a time when Chennai was filled with Armenian merchants and even today, stories float around. But all that remains today is a lone church and a street named after the community.
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I visit Madras almost every month, but this trip has been rather special. Although I was around for just a handful of days during the festivities, I still managed to attend a few events . A couple of walks, talks and a great food festival with plenty of history.
The Taj Connemara, now donning the new look of Taj Vivanta added a flavor of Raj during this period by the food festival. Although I was a vegetarian, it was interesting to know about the origin of some of the dishes - The Railway Lamb Cutlet to begin with . Little did I know that the vegetarian cutlet that I relished in the Brindavan Express owed its origins to the Lamb Cutlet which was a specialty of the Railways . The names of some of these dishes of the Anglo Indian cuisine was rather fascinating. Grandma's Chicken Country Captain for instance . Being a vegetarian, I did try the main rice dishes and then contended myself with a sumptuous helping of the Caramel custard and Bread Pudding, another signature dessert of the Anglo Indian Cuisine .
Chatting with Karuna Amarnath of the Taj, I learnt a bit more about the heritage of the hotel. A choultry for instance meant an open hall with a roof near a river where travellers could spend the night.The Choultry Plain was the name given to the Headquarters of the British Army and the house that stood here near the River Cooum was called the House on the Choultry Plain. Today I was digging into some great food in this house which is now the Taj. The House on the Choultry Plain did become The Imperial Hotel in the 19th century and later on took the name of Albany and Connemara before becoming the Taj and Taj Vivanta. I was of course, extremely interested in this little bit of trivia regarding the change of name from Albany to Connemara.
The official version is that the hotel took the name of Connemara from Albany in the honour of Robert Bourke,the Baron of Connemara who was also the Governor of Madras in the 19th century.. However the story goes that Lord Connemara's many flings and affairs with women got on to the nerves of Lady Connemara who stormed out of the Government House and took refuge here in Albany . Soon, after she left, the hotel was renamed Connemara in her memory and not after her Lord. I have lived in the vicinity of this hotel and dined here for so many days and yet, it took a Madras Day Special post to hear some juicu pieces of gossip along with history.
The rest of the days were spent in some interesting talks - I attended one on the history of theatre in Madras by PC Ramakrishna of the Madras Theatre group. I went for a couple of exhibitions - one was at the City centre which had a display of some wonderful old photographs from the archives of The Hindu. I spent an afternoon walking into Armenian Church taking some photographs. I also went for acouple of heritage walks - a Wallajah special by S. Anwar, documentary film maker and another brilliant walk down Mint Street, with Sriram V , editor of Madras Musings. Both of them deserve separate posts .
I would like to thank all those who sent in guest posts for Madras day celebrations. Every post enriched my blog and I am glad to see so many people passionate about the city .
On the Madras special, journalist Vani Saraswathi paints her love and hate relationship with the city. She refuses to gush , but the journalist from Doha now wants to introduce the Madras of her youth to her daughters.
Over to her
When I was asked to do a post on Madras, I thought I would have reams to write about the only city I can truly call home. But all I have are random thoughts and memories�
Bus, STOP!
Growing up, city reference points were very much bus stop related. The DMS or AGS bus stop near home to reach school, at the Pondy Bazaar bus stop.
The Casino bus stop, to visit my friend Chris. The High Court bus stop to visit my aunt who lived on Moore Street. The Thillaiyadi bus stop to go for my FountainPlaza visit � Bhel Puri treats and accessories from Rajesh�s. LIC bus stop to go for a drink to Aavin. WCC stop to reach Alliance Francais and NIIT.
As I grew up, my repertoire of bus stops grew. I hated Pallavan Transport Corporation. I hated lecherous and desperate fellows who preyed on school kids� but I loved the bus ride and the bus stops. I rarely ever looked out of the bus as a child. I had my nose buried in a book, be it seated or standing. But at every stop I looked out � eager to reach my destination and also curious to know what new vendor has hijacked the shaded spot.
When I had the opportunity to completely abandon PTC, I did. I walked or took an auto when I could afford to, and later got myself a Kinetic Honda. About 16 years after my last bus trip, I still associate much of Madras neighbourhood to the closest bus stop.
Candid Madras
Within the city, the farthest I�ve been till I started working, was Anna Nagar (yes, it was considered quite out of the way then) and Parry�s Corner.
Once I started working, covering the crime and more regularly the civic beat, I discovered North Madras. Royapuram, Ennore High Road, Binny Mills, Perambur�Interesting areas. Areas of the �original� Madras.
If you are expecting a gushing post on the city, then I am sure you will be disappointed. Because of the nature of my job, what I saw was a lot of neglect and dreariness. I had access to archive images of a beautiful gorgeous Cooum, but every day drove post what was only a large sewer line.
I saw illicit arrack being brewed, and I saw smuggled goods coming to the shoreline on the Ennore highway. I saw pot-bellied corrupt cops taking bribes in a systematic and planned manner from truck drivers. I saw the public stand by allow women to be teased, harassed and molested, because they just couldn�t care enough to muddy their culturally-superior hands.I saw very ugly sides of the city.
And when promises of Singara Chennai were made, I clung to it against my better judgement� yes, the city did get a little cleaner, and a little greener� but the people don�t change.Every year I go back, and I see total disdain for hygiene and public property.
What�s the use of flashy malls, if the stairwells are pan-stained and the parking lots reek of urine? What�s the use of flashy BMWs on the road, if the windows are lowered only to dump garbage on the road or spit out the chewing gum? What�s the use of all that education and cultural supremacy, if we can�t hold together as a city to do better by it?
I love Madras. And at the faintest slight, am capable of turning feral. But it is like every other Indian metro � incapable of keeping up with its own growth!
Rediscovering Madras
I am now discovering Madras through my older daughter � she is all of 9. She visits regularly. And she inadvertently reminds me of all that I love about the city. The experiences that make it my home, even 12 years after I left it.
The secondhand book vendors in Mylapore and outside Moore Market. She now visits those places with my mum, with a heftier pocket money than what I had, totally in love with the smell of used books.
The lending libraries around town. Cramped, tiny, badly lit, but a treasure trove. She harasses my sister to take her to the library as often as possible.
To Landmark with her periappa (nana) for the latest Percy Jackson and Amar Chitra Kathas.
To Pondy Bazaar with my mum to pick up accessories and just browse the street side kiosks.
Auto rides. Anywhere, anytime.
Marina beach.
Idli and sambar in Palimar.
I am learning to see Madras the way she sees it. A city full of attractions and opportunities.
Madras moments
So I think of the spots that I look back at with great fondness.
Nathan�s caf� in Parry�s Corner.
Aavin near LIC.
The electronic store near High Court � the name escapes me � but that�s where I got my first transistor.
Ajnabi and Kwality�s where my friends and I spent most of our pocket money.
The Museum complex, which is probably the coolest place in Madras.
Elliot�s beach that played host to my budding romance.
Fabric from the street vendors outside Thillaiaadi in Egmore.
The beautiful RipponBuilding where I spent a good part of my working life.
The historical and wildly gorgeous Express Estates.
We have a guest post from Anuradha Shankar, blogger and traveller who blogs at " A Wandering Mind." Anu is a prolific reader and she confesses to be a voracious bookworm. Living in Mumbai, Anu's visits to Madras are rare, yet she connects very strongly to her "madrasi roots." Here she goes on a nostalgic trip around the city
Over to Anu..
When I tell people that I am a Tamilian, the most common reaction is, �Oh, you are a Madrasi!� Explaining to people that there is more to Tamilnadu, and indeed to the south, than the city of Madras, is an exercise in futility! Over the years, I have come to realize that it is the city of Madras which people associate with the south�
It was, after all, the home of the Madras Presidency, the first stronghold of the British in India, the place from where they spread to hold the entire subcontinent! No wonder it is still the name �Madras� which strikes the North Indian when he thinks of the South! My own introduction to Madras was late. I first visited the city when I was about 10 or 12. Till then, it was just a name! And the city itself � what a contrast it was, to Bombay! Huge, individual houses, with gardens all around, comparatively empty streets devoid of traffic jams (then!), the clean beach which simply went on and on, temples at every junction, the city was a surprise in every way!
Living as we did in the tiny flats in Bombay, the huge, individual houses were the major attraction of the city! This was where I saw the first coconuts growing on a tree, where I plucked flowers and pestered my mom and aunts to tie and entwine them in my tightly plaited hair! I spent most of my time outdoors, looking at the flowers and vegetables growing in the backyard, talking to the neighbours over the fence! This was where I happily wore all the pavadais (and later, davanis too) without anyone asking me what I was wearing! Indeed, my earliest memories of Madras are associated with women wearing shiny Kanjeevaram sarees, their thinning hair weighted down by the huge bunch of malli and kanakambaram flowers. I made the most of my short holidays in the city, especially with all the flowers! Looking back, I am sure I would have looked like a walking advertisement for a flower show!
However, my most treasured memories are neither of the houses, nor of the flowers � they are associated with another place in Madras, a landmark by itself � Higginbotham�s! The first time I entered the over-150 year old book store was when I was around 12 years old. A great-uncle living in madras had just learnt of my love for books, and since he was then confined to bed, he commanded my cousins to take me there and get me whatever book I chose! He couldn�t have given me a better gift!
Just walking into the shop was a thrill! In my eyes, it was nothing short of heaven! It was, after all filled with books, with ample space to walk around goggling at books of every genre and description! For someone who had only seen the name Higginbotham�s over the railway book stalls and visited tiny stores crammed with books in Bombay, the original store in Madras was a revelation! One step inside, and the huge book shelves laden with all kinds of books, the smell of paper permeating the air, the hordes of people leafing through the books seriously�. I was smitten!
The book I bought then, on my first visit is one I outgrew soon, but it is one I have treasured, for it is associated with so many wonderful memories � of the great uncle who bought it for me, of the store which kindled my love for simply browsing through shelf full of books�over the next few years, I collected more books from Higginbotham�s � most of them are still my treasured possessions and waiting for my son too grow a little more so that they can be passed on to him! At the time, the history of the store was of no interest to me. I was only interested in the books. I remember insisting on visiting the store on every trip, and getting me out of there must have been a big chore for my uncles and cousins who took me there! It was only when I grew up and wasn�t able to visit the city any more that I actually learnt about the interesting history of the store, or that it is the oldest book store in India!
I hadn�t even heard then of Abel Higginbotham, who rose from being a librarian at the Wesleyan Book Shop to owning it when the protestant missionaries running the shop decided to sell. It is his name under which the store attained glory and became a name forever to be associated with books in India. It has been years now since I walked into the shop, but my memories are as fresh as that day, so many years ago. I can only wait for my next visit to the city, so that I can take my son there! There are so many more book shops today, maybe larger and with better collections too, but the sense of history one gets there is something unique, that cannot be replicated!
As we celerate Madras Day today and the 372nd birthday of the city - its an irony to note that the city is an ideal potpourri of the young and the old. While Fort St George where it all began is just 372 years old, areas like Mylapore could probably date back to 1st century BC. This post is however dedicated to Fort St George , where it all began. A look at some of the maps and illustrations in the Fort Museum show you how the settlement evolved over the three centuries
The Fort initially took about 14 years to build and was designed as a squarish structure with canons in the corners
Towns evolved around the fort � a white town within the town and the Indian or Black Town outside its walls
In the next century, you can see more buildings around the fort. Some of the streets and monuments are seen till date as well
There was a lighthouse once above the building which now houses the Fort Museum. The St Mary�s Church for instance is one of the oldest structures in Fort St George that you can visit even today. It is said that Robert Clive got married in this church which houses several tombs and memorials. Robert Clive's house is now the office of the ASI
Today Fort St George is open to the public and on the occasion of Madras Day, there are several heritage walks held in the area. It is a pleasure to walk down the streets which still bear the original names and look around some of the structures that exist still date. The events calender is available here
On the Madras Special is a journey of Madras through architecture. Noted architect and heritage enthusiast, Sujatha Shankar shares her thoughts on Madras and its architecture down the ages.Over to her now ..
Ever so often one encounters the question �Where are you from?� Coming from a lineage of South Indian Maharashtrians who moved to Thanjavur four centuries ago, born in Trivandrum and with family in all the southern states even in days of less mobility, one would actually wonder `Where�?
Growing up and living here since early childhood, it certainly is `Madras� that is home. Sunday morning visits to browse through rare books in Moore Market, buying craft materials with my mother in Flower Bazaar, frequent trips with my father to Georgetown and Triplicane, receiving or sending off a cousin at the Railway Station, school and home in South Madras, the annual ritual of seeing Christmas decorations at Spencers eagerly awaiting Santa Claus� each street and each building has its memories. It�s a city whose mosaic I find fascinating.
To each of us, the mere words Patnam, Madras or Chennai bring instant recall of what is etched deep in memory, of certain images in our mind with strong association to its location.
What is it that makes Chennai?
What is a city remembered by?
Is it its landscape?
Is it its people?
Is it the food?
Is it the events, streetscape or the throbbing culture?
In part, it is certainly a weave of all of these but predominantly it is the built form and architecture that form a frame of reference for the city and links people across generations through their common association with a landmark in their perception of the city, establishing a link in time like a string through the past, present and future. It is this overlay of memories that sustains our very beings.
In our everyday life, we experience the buildings and spaces in our city, however we rarely pause to observe. Like Simon & Garfunkel would say "people hearing without listening people talking without speaking,"
Most times its also people seeing without looking.
To me, the sojourn away from home to do my masters degree was an eye opener. When I returned, I saw my own city in new light & sharper focus.
In an attempt to explore this architectural wealth of our city�s heritage I�d like to share with you a short documentary film that I made titled `Madras Vision of Day� named after city�s founder, Francis Day.It narrates the story of how the city has evolved starting out as villages, growing with trade, influenced by settlers, the British with their major imprint on indigenous concepts.
Initially the British transplanted pure colonial, Greek & European structures on Indian soil to establish supremacy, first as traders of the East India Company and later as rulers. As nationalism and unrest grew in the mid 1800s there was a transformation in architecture, where local elements were integrated into Western concepts, creating the fusion of the Indo Saracenic architecture, a political tool to make the foreign powers appear Indianised in the eyes of the masses. Then we move to the post independence era, groping with issues of planning and urban development.
Madras has grown since the film, bursting with flyovers, IT Parks, Offices, Hotels, Multiplexes & Malls. Many a flashy highrise has risen on the ashes of the last vestiges of a bygone era, increased mobility has created a demand for faster & better connections through transport & infrastructure.
With multiple modes of transport jostling for the same space, with the pace of life faster than what has been planned for, the city somewhere has become a Vision gone awry. We tend to think that it is only the job of the government, the city planners or transport planners to shape our cities.
What is it that we as citizens can do to contribute to a better Madras and take it in the right direction? Even if it�s a small piece of the entire jigsaw?
In the din & rush for everything new we must rise up to protect our heritage.Held in trust for posterity, these are resources that are non-renewable. Clearly we must act as custodians of the fragile wealth by shouldering our share of responsibility to pass it on to the future generations.
A positive step has been that Chennai has been displaying great pride in its Heritage through the Mylapore Festival, Madras Week lectures, even poetry, music, dance and film. The key is to integrate it into the normal course of life for citizens, builders, developers, industrialists and children who are the torchbearers for the Madras of the future.
An active voice and public participation has saved some of the Heritage buildings like the DGPs office and more recently Gokhale hall and Bharat Insurance building. The City craves a Heritage Act and we do need to push for it.
Not all heritage structures can be preserved if they have outlived their purpose. To breathe new life into old structures, putting an old structure to new use or `Adaptive reuse� is as `green� a concept as any.
Just a few examples from outside Chennai
-Butler Square, Minneapolis, an old warehouse that has been turned into an upscale shopping centre
-Quincy Market in Boston has transformed into a buzzing square
-Windsor & Eton railway station is a lively hub.
Madras has its own trailblazers
- Amethyst � an old home functioning as a boutique
- The Art Deco Ilford House which is FabIndia�s outlet
- Sri Krishna Sweets where we had the opportunity to transform a 100 year old house into a mithai shop & restaurant. The only structural intervention has been the introduction of an eleva
- The Madras Terrace house aptly named functions as a space for creative expression, talks, discussions and art shows.
When it makes economic sense, many a structure can be saved from the demolishers with a little imagination.
Aesthetics is another area where each of us can contribute when we are faced with a choice. A danger on the Chennai cityscape is the lack of harmony with the neighborhood. Many cities in Europe even today maintain a harmonious balance with development. Our own Jaisalmer or villages do the same. Old images of Madras display our value for the aesthetic. Then why do we now display a certain megalomania in the `I, Me, Myself, race and build monuments within four compound walls that have no connection to the neighborhood.
Madras despite the rapid pace of development has managed to keep some oasis of green� the Estuary, the GuindyPark, the IIT, Theosophical Society. Protecting these lung spaces for posterity is imperative for beautiful Madras.
If we pass on a Madras or Chennai to our next generation whose quality is as good if not better than we inherited, we would have done our job well.
Coming up next on the Madras special is a very special post from noted scholar and author, V.Dhivakar I am extremely grateful to Dhivakar Sir for sharing this post on the Emden Bombing on my blog . Thanks to Vijay who requested him on my behalf to share this as well. I am extremely delighted to see such rare and archival photographs accompanying this wonderfully written account.Dhivakar Sir has published four books in Tamil and one of them is on the Emden bombing.
For those of you who are wondering what the post is all about, lets rewind to the days of World War 1 when Madras the settlement was controlled by the British. The First World War had its impact in India too and the only city to be bombed was Madras by a German ship, Emden. I first heard about Emden in the summer of 1992 when I was a college student attempting to learn sailing in the erstwhile Royal Madras Yacht Club .A photograph on the wall was the testimony to the bombing and even the walls carried the scar.I did an article on it years ago for an inflight magazine called Touch of NEPC Damania Airlines. Today, neither the airline nor the club officially functions, but then my memory of Emden remains. And thanks to Dhivakar Sir's post, my memories came flooding back.
Over to him for the account of the historic event.
SMS Emden, the "swan of the east" attacked Madras, the " stem of east" but the excitement stood for short time. Yes , Emden was darling among German Vessels and even had a poem written on her. And the strong fort of Madras was equally famous at that time , called as stem of east for British Imperial India, base for the Royal British Naval Fleet which not only controlled Bay of Bengal but complete Indian Ocean wherever the flags of British fluttered
It was the third day after New Moon (Mahalaya Amavasya), that is 22nd September 1914, 9.20 PM, the German warship which already captured and destroyed around 15 merchant vessels having flags of Italy, British and Australia in just 15 days voyage, entered into the shore of Madras. Under cover of dark she immediately started firing at the harbour, thinking of attacking the Fort St. George and Royal British Navy, instead hitting the Petrol Tanks built at Harbour. 125 shells in ten minutes into the oil storage and destroying 350,000 gallons of oil stored at four Burma shell tanks were destroyed three of them completely, one in half of the way of destruction, but after just ten minutes of bombardment it just silently turned away from Madras shore and fled towards Colombo, as if nothing she created..
It was only ten minutes and the damage was also limited, but the ego of British Royalty was already hit.Emden attacking the city of Madras was the beginning of unfortunate and inauspicious time for the British Government in Madras. The city�s limited telephone lines were buzzing with various rumours very rapidly. Both the local and British press did not believe the reassuring messages from Fort St George whole heartedly. They printed the news and rumours they gathered in a big way. This made the position of the government even more difficult. Many did not know that the cable messages reaching the British government were not entirely true. However Emden�s attack on Madras caught every ones imagination. Rumours were flying like a wild fire throughout the Imperial India. Some claimed to have seen Emden and waved to it near the coast off the French Puducherry. Others were certain Emden achieved her target and even predicted she would not rest until her �mission accomplished� that was to end the British citadel in the eastern seas.
Fine! The time of attack was well planned by the so called Gentleman Capt. Von Muller, who controlled the War Ship SMS Emden. The over confident British Naval Officers stationed at Madras who did not care to give a minute respect to Emden till then, suddenly started crying and searching all over the seas for Emden with their enourmous fleet strength. They could not beleive their eyes. The ship came. Anchored at shore. Bambarded the City, but why just ten minutes only. The sleeping city, sleeping Navy officers, sleeping Naval logistics could have done nothing against the bambarding one man army, but why Emden did not utilize its opportunity which was given in golden plate by her enemy �numero uno� to destroy the base? Though later on, next day, British Navy claimed that Emden ran away because they have responded strongly but in reality that was not there.After Emden reached to very safe distance, the British started responding towards unknown object in the dark sea. Emden could have spoiled and even damaged the whole fort and High court along with Harbour even it stayed for half an hour there with slight moving. But it has not happened. Emden ran back in the dark. Why she ran away? Why she had not utilized the opportunity. Why only rubbing salt on wounds which ultimately pained the whole world and angered them in vengence for next 7 weeks..
This was a big question I asked myself that led to lot of research on Emden�s full voyage from the start of her sailing in 1908. The world war started only in July 1914, but the situation in the eastern seas were totally different in that time and vibrant competition made them to venture against each other among European giants.
There was lot of talk that Dr. Shenbaga Raman Pillai was a Doctor worked for German Navy and while bambarding Madras, it was told that the whole plan was his. But it is not all true and Dr. Shenbaga Raman was not in Emden while she was engaged in world war. The whole list of occupants of ill-fated Emden is available and no name of such there. Fortunately we have a direct account of Madras bombardment from the Vice Captain Commander Von Mukke, who later became author of many books, and one book he named as Emden, clearly giving the accounts of voyage took place from 8th August 1914 to 9th November 1914 and have mentioned so many incidents. But no Shenbagaraman was found. Instead he did mention one Indian (he mentioned as Hindu passenger) from whom he got several news through cables and newspapers captured from merchant vessels.
This is a major point I have taken as a link to my novel which was named �SMS Emden 22-09-1914�. Yes! the same date Madras got bombarded.
Another guest post on the Madras Special on Mylapore by Sharath Chandra, popularly known as Shirty in media and advertising circles .As he introduces himself - " Sharath 'Shirty' Chandra works in Media and these views expressed here are personal. His love for Madras, that's official. "
I met Shirty almost a decade ago in Madras, after several rounds of email exchanges between us . He came home one hot summer afternoon, to visit, nay interview me - a jaundiced soul, for a job with Radio Mirchi . It was probably the only interview in my life where the boss visited the candidate in her home for an interview - But that is Shirty for you . I did get the job - it was for Head of Programming for Radio Mirchi and Shirty and I hit it off together . Many years later, Shirty moved to Mumbai and then London , but his love for Madras keeps reflecting in his FB statuses now and then . A great punner and a man who has several PJs up his sleeve, Shirty instantly agreed to send a piece on Madras and Mylapore, where he grew up..
Over to Shirty now..
A few Sundays ago, on one of those rare sunny English summer afternoons, sunk in a sofa by the verandah and lulled by the stillness and quiet of Mayfair, I caught myself asking why there did not seem to be a word that captured this delightful kind of day.
Much later did it not occur to me there indeed was a word - Mylapore 1970s. (Two words, not one, but still). And its sweet spot in my opinion� an idyll leafy housing colony nestled between Oliver, Kennedy, and Appar Swamy Streets, where I grew up.
Though more than 35 years have passed I can vividly recall the memories of nearly all my childhood that I spent there. And the ones that stand out most being the long days of summer. Blessed by the absence of TV (there was one in the entire colony!) and with few friends of my age, I was, it seems, left to my own devices to keep myself busy. One such summer resulted in mastering cycling on my friends BSA. And when I was blamed (unfairly, in my opinion) for twisting the handlebar and thus had my borrowing privileges revoked I longed for my own. But the hints were firmly ignored by my parents, ostensibly for safety reasons. Not long after, when running an errand (a weekly routine of taking Peaberry +Arabica beans to get roasted and ground at the �coffee machine kadai� in Appar Swamy Street, with strict instructions to sit on the bench and watch that the �fellow� did not �substitute�), I noticed that the curmudgeonly Loganathan (or Logu to his pals) who ran the �repair� shop next door had started a Hire Cycle business. To the uninitiated, �repair shops� usually squeezed in the no-mans land between two shops, are places where you could get the reasonably uncomplicated domestic contraptions fixed - electric irons, immersion-heaters, taps, lamps and such. If you were lucky, they would work afterwards too. Clearly business had been good for Logu and he decided to diversify into the mobile (!) business. Parked in front of his shop were a clutch of cycles of varying vintage and makes � Raleigh, Atlas and even a brand new Hercules. Mustering up the courage to enquire, I paled when he told me the rates - 20 paise per hour for the older ones and 25 paise per hour for the brand new Hercules (it had a dynamo also). There was, of course, no question of �initial deposit� (this was 70�s Madras; everyone knew everyone and probably still does!). To put the hire charges into context, my other objets d�desire then: NP Bubble Gum 15 paise, Commando Comic (at Easwari Lending Library) 25 paise, Bombay Halwa House Samosa 50 paise. And as pocket money to pursue my desires, I received monthly a princely sum of zero, save a tidy Rs. 5 for the entire summer, a reward for a (reasonably) blemish-free report card for the year that went by.
Oh, the joy that summer, and all thanks to Logu�s Hire Cycle. Throwing caution and budget to the wind, I sneaked away almost every afternoon for an expedition into the far reaches of Mylapore. (And sometimes, even as far as Santhome!) . The plan was simple. Every day around noon, when the household and the entire neighborhood slumbered into their siesta, I would tiptoe out, to Logu�s. Pay 20 p. Hop onto a cycle. Pedal away furiously for an hour. In any direction that caught my fancy. And to avoid the traffic (such as it was then!) and chance detection, more subterfuge - avoid the �big� roads!
So began my forays into the great unknown, intrepidly zigging and zagging into Cross Streets and Main Roads that seemed to meet and intersect in complexities of varying geometric and algebraic proportions. I quickly learnt that CIT Colony�s Cross Streets followed the elegant 1st, 2nd, 3rd system. Whereas R A Puram�s Main Roads followed the more imposing Roman I, II, III. And the minor inconvenience presented by lanes that were not worthy of the title of a �Main Road� or too friendly to be a �Cross Street� was ingeniously overcome by calling them Link Streets. Whizzing past on my (t)rusty Atlas, none of these nuances escaped my attention(a skill that has stood me in good stead since, helping me flip through 30-slide PowerPoint printout just minutes before a meeting and holding forth thereon knowledgeably).
Emboldened by my escapades I ventured further North, crossing Edward Elliots Road, in pursuit of thrills. And Commando Comics. As a callow youth, barely into my teens, the greatest repository of excitement then was Easwari Lending Library on Lloyds Road, run by the doughty Mr. Palani. Summer afternoons spent in the cramped confines of his splendid establishment with just one table fan that would function at the mercy of either the EB or its thrifty Proprietor, was the result of a weekly pilgrimage in the quest of the latest Commando Comics. Having reached there on the ill-affordable hire-cycle, I had little time to waste - sifting through the stacks of titles to sort out the newer ones, surreptitiously read one or two while pretending to flip through and finally plea bargain my way out with the Proprietor who was prone to mood swings (especially when callow youth would try and defer payment). With the mission somewhat accomplished, I would snap the books onto the equally recalcitrant �carrier� on the back of the cycle and then race back to return it to the clock-watching Logu. And then sneak back home.
And it was not always the pursuit of visceral thrills either. On one mission I noticed, tucked between the wall of Luz Church and Kennedy Street, a tiny lane which for some reason never seemed to have been baptized. Local legend had it that kindly neighbors took it into their fold and affectionately called it Kennedy 2nd Street. While the reason for naming it Kennedy Street in the first instance never really intrigued me then, many years later, ruminating on this and that as one is wont to, the ineffable wisdom (or humor!) of naming a tiny narrow lane less than five-feet wide after a man whose far-reaching vision galvanized humanity into putting man on the moon seemed to be wholly in character with the denizens of that tiny corner of Madras - Mylapore.
More than three decades later in London, I cheered when visiting friends took their daughters cycling though Hyde Park. And smiled when a recently married young friend tells me her partner and she had made Sunday cycling their routine. A more propitious sign for a life-time of excitement and thrills couldn�t be had! As for me, our recent move here seemed to have coincided with the launch of a Barclays/Boris hire-cycle scheme right in the heart of London. And this one costs a Pound for an hour! So as I sneak off on summer afternoons to explore the lanes and mews Mayfair and beyond (taking care to avoid the �big� roads), life, it seems, has come a full cycle.
