Egmore eccentricities

Electronic display at Egmore Station

Those of you who follow these ramblings of The Man from Madras Musings would know that MMM is quite fond of Egmore Station, though he would be the first to admit that it is not what it was. The other day MMM was happy to note that the railway authorities were equally glad to see MMM for, when he entered the station, he saw this electronic signboard. You get the message too, don’t you? The Indian Railways, it said, welcomed MMM. And in case MMM did not get it the first time, it welcomed him again. And for good measure, again, and again and again. And then once more, if MMM is not mistaken.

The effusive welcome notwithstanding, MMM was keen to know the platform from which his train was to depart. What with contending with a political meeting on the way, MMM was rather short on time. And to compound it, he was travelling with his good lady who believes in arriving at a railway station when the intended train is just about leaving it. But of train arrivals and departures there was not a scrap of information. The electronic display board had been put to good use welcoming passengers, but as to more important information that it needed to offer there was none. The only option was to listen to the public address system, which probably had been installed when the station was inaugurated. “Bark bowow,” it went. And then “Bark bark bark bowow, bark bark.” There were lots more of it, but MMM will spare you the details leaving you with the gist. You had to sharpen your ears to the utmost to make out what was being said. Eventually, after repeatedly listening to it, this almost uniformly canine language revealed some syllables that could be comprehended. Based on this, MMM made his way to his platform, his good lady boldly leading the way.

The path was not smooth and even the good lady, who is not to be easily daunted, was somewhat shaken. The station provides, as you know, escalators for going up but not for coming down and, so, while progress is fast in one direction, it slows down considerably in the other. The stairways, though wide, are bottlenecks. These tend to become more bottlenecked when someone decides to regurgitate (to put it mildly) all along the steps. Of cleaning staff there was no sign and so the recycled matter remained where it was, with passengers and porters negotiating it with care, hands and kerchiefs pressed to the nostrils and eyes trying not to look.

MMM and his good lady made it, or just about.

Agony in Anna Nagar

The Man from Madras Musings was strongly reminded of Hansel and Gretel. Those two intelligent children, if you recollect, had marked their route into the forest with pebbles and had thereby managed to return safely much to the delight of their father but to the distress of their stepmother. Standing at a crossroads at Anna Nagar, MMM was of the view that he too ought to have done the same. But hang on, MMM can see that you, dear reader (to borrow from Jane Eyre), are confused. What is MMM coming to these days, you wonder, and rightfully so. After all, these are not the Meanderings of a Misguided Man.

To put everything into perspective, let MMM begin from the beginning which, as the song had it, is a very good place to start. MMM had to be at Anna Nagar and, so, off he went. He dodged a few trenches, all courtesy Metrorail, drove under the “heritage” Anna Arches, which are still standing thanks to historically aware people and, presto, there he was, in Anna Nagar. This is not really a locality that MMM visits all that often, but his impression of the place was always one of broad roads and tree-lined avenues. Not any longer, MMM sadly noted. The broad roads are now much narrower, thanks to massive construction activity of the Metro or Monorail or a flyover or some other public transport facility which is going to make our city truly Chennapore. As for the tree-lined avenues, they are all debris-lined, as every second house is in the process of metamorphosing into a multi-storeyed complex, complete with a certain number of b, h & ks and also swimming pool, gym and clubhouse. Enough to make the place Madrattan.

But MMM digresses, always a known weakness of his. The crux of his story is the return journey. His errand completed, MMM prepared to make his way back. It was then that he thought of the siblings Hansel and Gretel and realised a moment later that even they would have been flummoxed, for Anna Nagar now operates through a series of complicated one-ways, where the way up is not the way down and never do the twain meet. MMM felt more like Abhimanyu, the Mahabharata hero who knew how to enter a certain enemy formation but not how to exit from it. The civic body that claims to run our city (or are the Police responsible for the signboards?) had thoughtfully placed several signboards at various places to guide those driving around Anna Nagar. ‘Keep Left’ said one, another admonished MMM and others of his ilk not to mix drinking and driving. A third informed MMM that speed thrilled, but killed. But as to how to leave Anna Nagar there was not a single sign or it missed MMM’s eye. He was later pointed to a couple of signs that gave directions, but these were so small that it was impossible to make out what they were stating, especially while driving.

MMM had to resort to stopping at every junction and ask for directions. This was much to the irritation of those in vehicles behind who, it appeared, were in a tearing hurry. Amidst the honking MMM could barely make out what passers-by were telling him, but he understood enough to drive on. MMM crossed several of Anna Nagar’s famed residential blocks and as he was passing Block X it dawned on him that Z should surely be the last block and after that he should be out of the maze. But he did not know that Anna Nagar was the grid which was the inspiration for Microsoft’s Excel.

After Z there began AA, AB and so on endlessly. A wrong turn near AA (or was it AB?) brought MMM back to where he had started. He had to stop for directions once more. Finally, after several lefts and rights and ups and downs, he could see the twin arches in the distance. A wave of fondness for the two heritage structures poured over MMM. He wishes them well and hopes that they will stay on forever, to guide those lost in Anna Nagar.

The Telegraph comes to Town

Telegraph stamps

The telegraph will become a thing of the past in the next few weeks. The sorrow over its impending demise is nothing compared to the excitement surrounding its introduction. Like the other Presidency cities, Madras was connected by telegraph in 1853, with Henry Nelson, Director of Parry & Co and Chairman of the Madras Chamber of Commerce, sending a message to Marseilles on 13 October, at a cost of Rs. 10. The general public had to wait till 1854, when on March 1, telegraph offices were opened in the Fort, Guindy, Mount Road and Poonamallee. As a promotional feature, the public was invited to send one message, not exceeding six words, free of cost on inaugural day.

There were howls of protest when the charges came into effect from 2 March. These, which had to be paid by purchasing telegraphic stamps that are in the picture, were found to be exorbitant. Messages sent within the city cost the same as those sent abroad! This was soon corrected. Sending messages to England was beset with problems. There was no sea link and telegrams were cabled from England to Aden and then brought from there to Bombay or Galle in Ceylon by steamer. These were then retransmitted to their destinations. A study done in 1860 showed that messages to Madras took anywhere between 30 to 50 days to reach. Frequent breakdowns in the Ceylon line led to the unearthing of a scam wherein four people were arrested for tampering with messages and bribing transmitters. The opening of the Indo-European line in 1865 brought Madras closer to London. Messages took three days from then on.

Even then, getting operators who knew English was difficult. Alexander Forrester Brown of Parry complained that a word such as shipment sent from England, became shipace in Karachi and shipoyo in Madras. By the same logic he added, “ferocious could pass to garocious or even garrocimbs.” But over time, Indians mastered the technique and language. The post of Telegraph Master was a coveted one and we still remember an incumbent, Telegraph Abboyi Naidu in a street-name in George Town. Interestingly, the Telegraph and Postal services were distinct and separate early on. When the Madras GPO was constructed in 1875, it was designed to accommodate the Telegraph Offices. This was prescient, for in 1913, the two were combined to form the Department of Posts and Telegraphs.

The heyday of the telegraph was during the British raj when the Empire practically ran on the service. Cables could be on high matters of state or ones such as the message from a panic-stricken stationmaster, minutes before ME Grant Duff, the Governor of Madras was to arrive by train. “Tiger jumping about on platform. Staff much alarmed. Please arrange.”

This article appeared in The Hindu under the Hidden Histories Column

Almost there, but not quite

For want of an alphabet

The monsoon breaks over my village

Have I ever told you about Pathai, my village? It is an hour’s drive from Kanyakumari. A picturesque settlement, it is practically in Kerala being at the tail-end of the Western Ghats on the Tamil Nadu side. Mahendragiri is plainly visible from our village and it was from the neighbouring village, Kalakkad, that Thomas and William Daniell painted a view of the hill in the 18th century.

Kalakkad’s Satyavageeswarar Temple, with Mahendragiri in the background, as seen from my terrace

I was at the village earlier this week, just in time to see the monsoon breaking over the hills. The rains have not reached the village as yet, but as Raju says in The Guide, it is raining in the hills.

The lowering skies

My favourite is a mountain spring that comes to life every year during the monsoon and lasts till March. On silent nights, you can actually hear it from the terrace! You can see it as a thin sliver in this photo.

A mountain spring at the Thalayanai forest

The sun put up a valiant fight but was chased away by the clouds.

Hindi film dialogues post #IPLspotfixing

Bookie to cricketer who did not agree to fixing: “Dawood ke haath bade lambe hote hain.”

“Sab lut gaya sarkar,” bookie to D before stating that cricketer did not give signal

“Kutte! Kamine! Main tumhara khoon pee jaaoonga” D’s reaction

“Meri maa bookie hai,” Oops sorry! That was to indicate that the hero’s mother is hungry.

“Lo munh meetha karo! Humare Raamu ko aaj naukri mil gayi hai” (little knowing that the naukri is that of a bookie)

“Kitne bookie the?” Police offer investigating

“Yeh din bhi dekhne the” or “Ab hum kahin ke nahin rahe,” – dialogue by mother whose cricketer son is caught

“Main tumhari bookie ke bacche ki maa banne wali hoon,” wise heroine who knows which side her bed is feathered, I mean bread is buttered

“Aaj main bahut khush hoon,” Sati Savitri girlfriend of crooked cricketer, hours before the CBI strikes

“Dafa ho ja meri nazron se,” father-in-law to son-in-law who er… queered the pitch

“Kya yeh sach hai ki mera baap bookie hai?” son of bookie (SOB) to mother

“Zor se kaho, mera baap bookie hai,” local thug to SOB who being never able to forget this, grows up to be what else? Another bookie

“Main nirdosh hoon,” – crooked cricketer on being caught

“U aar undur arrest,” Police Inspector

“naheeeeeeeeeeeeen” general cricket watching junta

“Yahaan koi achi nahi noti hai seth, sab ke sab bookiyaan hain bookiyaan,” – Old madam being interrogated by police

And so…

“Objeksan youar aanar” lawyer

“Arder! Arder!” Judge

“Bhagwan! Aaj mein tumhari dwaar aayi hoon,” – cricketer’s mom

“Apraaadhi yeh cricketer nahi hai youar aanar, apraadhi samaaj hai, jisne is fool ko (phool ko) kaanta banaa diya,” – defence lawyer

“Obj…”

“Aarder! Aarder!”

(judgement is awaited)

“Bhagwan ke liye mujhe chod do” cricket to bookie

“Arey itni achi cheez ko bhagwan ke liye kaise chodoon” – bookie

A song for IPL – tauli mein rehne do, tauli na girao! tauli jo gir gayaa to bhed khul jaayega!

Or Ishaaron ishaaron mein run lene wale, bata yeh hunar tune seekha kahaan se?

Nuggets of a time gone by

That heritage is not restricted to buildings alone, was brought home to me when industrialist Mohanchand Dadha showed me a pocket watch from his collection.

Government House, Madras on a pocket watch

It was an exquisite piece in 18 carat gold of the open-face variety, with the winding stem at 12 o clock, indicating that it was meant for civilian use. I turned it over and 300 years of Madras history stared me in the face. The photograph on the rear was that of Government House, Government Estate, opposite The Hindu.

Until 1947, it was the residence of the governor, the most powerful man in all of Madras Presidency.

One of the oldest residences of the city, it, or rather its core, had been in existence since at least the early 1700s when it was the property of Antonia de Madeiros of the rich and powerful eponymous Portuguese family, after whom our city probably got its name of Madras. It was rented in the 1740s from her by Governor Thomas Saunders, who found living in Fort St George impossible. The East India Company purchased the house in 1753 and it became the Governor’s official residence thereafter.

Given its importance, it was a prominent target during wars, and Comte de Lally in 1759 and Hyder Ali in 1767, raided it. But with the coming of peace, much attention was lavished on it, the precinct becoming a vast wooded park and the house itself being expanded. Under Governor Edward, the 2nd Lord Clive, with the designs of engineer John Goldingham, a detached banqueting hall was built in 1801. Today we know of it as Rajaji Hall.

Several governors, their wives and guests recorded their impressions of Government House. Arriving in 1877, Viceroy Lord Lytton recorded that the house was, “a rather ugly one in the centre of a park not very well kept up.” Governor ME Grant-Duff left behind a magnificent account of the place during the height of the monsoon. For all its size, Government House had no spare bedrooms! Guests had to be accommodated in tents till the governor’s guesthouse, The Lodge, was built in the garden.

Thanks to Government House, the part of Mount Road adjoining it became a fashionable downtown locale, with the best hotels, music shops, jewellers, watchmakers and furniture showrooms coming up.

One of these was P Orr & Sons, which probably made this watch, almost certainly a retirement gift for someone on the governor’s staff.

Raj Bhavan at Guindy had been the governor’s weekend home from the 1820s. In 1947, it became the governor’s official residence. Government House on Mount Road accommodated police departments thereafter.

In 2007, it was decided that the new Assembly-cum-Secretariat would be built on the site.

The plan could well have accommodated Government House but for whatever reason, it, along with all other heritage structures in the compound barring Rajaji Hall, was brought down. Watches like this one keep its memory alive. If only time, like this watch, would stand still.

This article appeared under the Hidden Histories column on June 11th 2013

A purse for Papanasam Sivan

I wrote this several years ago for the Encore column in The Hindu. Having suddenly rediscovered it I am posting it here.

On November 24, 1934, the Jagannatha Bhakta Sabha met to honour a composer. Unlike many functions that had taken place under the auspices of the sabha, held under a thatched roof enclosure in the gardens of `Veda Vilas,’ Egmore High Road, this was an event with a difference. The composer himself was alive and what’s more, relatively young. He was present in person to receive the honours which included a purse containing the princely sum of Rs. 366.

Papanasam Sivan, who was a well-known figure in Madras, thanks to his association with the bhajan sessions he conducted around the Mylapore temple tank on auspicious occasions since 1921, had settled down in the city in 1929. He had already begun composing, his first song, “Unnai Thudhikka,” a spontaneous creation while witnessing the chariot festival in Tiruvarur, had come about in 1917. Since then he had been steadily bringing out many songs.

Living in a lane off Kutchery Road, Sivan became music tutor to the children of Mylapore Sundaram Iyer. The eldest, S. Rajam, later to blossom as the well-known musician, painter and musicologist, was his first student. It was also due to his association with the family that Sivan got his first film assignment, to compose music for the film, `Seetha Kalyanam’ which had members of the Sundaram Iyer family acting in it.

In 1934, Sivan’s rendition of the song, “Kaana Kann Kodi” during the Adhikara Nandi festival in Mylapore so moved Rukmini Devi that she made him the music teacher at the Besant Theosophical School.

Despite all this growing fame, Sivan remained a simple soul untouched by it all. One of the many music lovers who greatly admired him was R. Rangaramanuja Iyengar, the indefatigable English teacher at the Sir MCtM School, Purasawalkam. He ensured that Sivan’s songs were set down in notation and got them published in 1934 under the title, `Kirtanamalai.’ The Jagannatha Bhaktha Sabha event had a twofold purpose, release of the volume and the honouring of Sivan.

The Hindu, reporting on the event on Monday, November 26, under the heading, “South Indian Composer Honoured,” noted: “there was a large gathering of ladies and gentlemen”.

The proceedings began with a prayer rendered by Mrs. R.V.Sastri and then the well known publisher G.A.Natesan took the chair and spoke on the many facets of Papanasam Sivan. Messages wishing the function all success were received from Harinaga Bhushanam Pantulu of Masulipatnam, S. Sathyamurthy and the well-known violinists Marungapuri Gopalakrishna Iyer and T.K. Jayarama Iyer.

The Hindu noted that the “idea of the purse emanated from a few ardent admirers of Mr. Sivan a year or so back. The outcome of it though not very good, is yet encouraging enough. The apparent lack of response to the Purse, the organisers hope, will be made up by earnest attempts to see that Mr. Sivan’s `Keertanamala’ reaches every home in South India.” Sivan, to whom money mattered very little, accepted the purse with grace.

Interestingly, two of the people who spoke on the occasion were T.K.Chidambaranatha Mudaliar (TKC), the great lover of Tamil and K.V.Krishnaswami Iyer, who the next year would take over as president of the Music Academy.

Within a decade, both would become bitter opponents, on the role of Tamil in Carnatic music. Sivan indirectly was a beneficiary, for his songs came to the fore, thanks to the Tamil Isai movement that was initiated by TKC, Kalki Krishnamurthy and others.

Rukmini Devi, who was present, said that it was the good fortune of her school that it had Sivan as its music teacher.

Sivan, however, was to teach at the school only for five years, for in 1939, owing to increasing pressure and demand from the film world, he had to leave the job.

He was, however, to remain a close associate of Rukmini Devi and Kalakshetra. Yet another speaker was Shafee Mohammed who said that it “was an honour to Tamil Nadu to have musicians like Mr. Sivan. He had great pleasure in associating himself, on behalf of his community, with the function that day.”

Those were secular times indeed, though not many were familiar with the word then.

Significantly, R. Venkatachari (aka Muthanna), secretary of the sabha, while proposing a vote of thanks made a request to Mr Sivan to devote some of his time to composing national songs. Sivan, who had become an ardent nationalist following the Jallianwala Bagh massacre, took this request seriously and was to compose several patriotic songs.

The programme, the first public felicitation to Sivan, concluded with a concert by the composer himself, accompanied by Kumbakonam Rajamanikkam Pillai on the violin and Kothandarama Iyer on the mridangam.

Metro Rail continues bulldozing heritage

The Metro Rail project is on a fast track and has rightfully earned plaudits for the speedy execution that is underway. Unfortunately, in doing so, it is exacting a heavy price on the city’s heritage. In the past we have had occasion to highlight the potential for damage to historic structures as drilling and other work continues in their proximity. Now, for the first time, Metro Rail has completely demolished a heritage building in full – one of the structures in the Government Teachers’ Training College campus, Saidapet.

The two-storeyed structure, to an unusual semi-circular plan, with arched windows right along its periphery, was reminiscent of the Ice House in several ways. It was part of the more than 150-year-old campus and was easily its most visible building as it was closest to the road. Chennai Metro Rail has claimed that this is not a heritage structure as it is not listed specifically in the Justice Padmanabhan Committee report. It therefore asserts that the demolition did not need permission of the Heritage Conservation Committee (HCC) which was formed by the Government and undertook to protect the buildings listed by the Padmanabhan Committee.

That this is not a correct interpretation of the High Court’s ruling will be made clear to anyone who reads the Padmanabhan Committee report. Listed in page 653, the notings cover the entire campus. The report has it that the buildings (note the plural) are of the British period and “located within a campus. Few buildings are maintained fairly, while one is in serious deterioration.” The last named is a building with a spire and now houses the Mother Teresa University. Ironically, the structure that has been demolished is one that was in a good condition and which had been recently restored after a fashion by the PWD. The Padmanabhan Committee had also considered this campus to be of Grade 1 importance which meant it is a stretch, complex or area of State or National importance… “They are characterised by their size, length or number of buildings that form a group – which is usually large; with special architectural character or features; and of a certain position in history which assigns them that importance.” By its very ranking, it is clear that the Teachers’ College campus was considered as a whole and Metro Rail had no business to selectively decide which buildings could be demolished.

The deed has been done. But what we are left wondering about is the complete silence of the HCC and its parent body, the CMDA, both of which were mandated by the High Court to protect heritage buildings. In fact, the arguments that we have presented above ought to have been put forward by the HCC so that the demolition could have been prevented.

But it is a well-known fact that this body chooses to remain silent on most matters and has, at most, stirred itself only to give approvals for demolition.

In this context, it is worthwhile quoting from the Padmanabhan Committee report. “The committee with heavy heart points out that neither the public nor the administration nor the authorities are conscious of the value of maintaining the heritage buildings, places of historic importance or aesthetic value and popular places of worship, which is a disappointment. All of them will have to be educated and informed of the values of such historical and monumental buildings. The administration has to change its attitude on these aspects, by appropriate and stringent measures. The committee members are also pained to note that several heritage and ancient buildings have been brought down by the public as well as the authorities and they continue unabated.”

Sage words indeed, which unfortunately have fallen on deaf ears.

Departmental conflicts damn pedestrianisation

The cries of adulation with which the Corporation of Chennai’s budget were received have hardly died down when conflict of authority among various departments and ministries in the State have begun to put paid to several plans. Among the casualties is the proposal to create cycle tracks and pedestrian pathways, both of which were the more creative elements of the budget.

It will be recalled that the Mayor in his budget proposal had envisaged a cycle track all along the beach, beginning from Beach Station and terminating at Foreshore Estate. This was to be extended later to the southern limits of the city, based on the success of the prototype. It is now learned that the Police has objected to this idea, stating that it is not feasible given the current traffic situation.

It is reliably learnt that the pedestrian zones too are also likely to be vetoed. If such conflicts are left to go unresolved there may be no improvement in our traffic situation in the near future.

In such a scenario, what is urgently needed is an overall authority that can be an umbrella body over all stakeholders. It can take into account diverse points of view and then come to a decision which, when announced, will be binding on all parties, irrespective of what their original views were. And Chennai already has such a body in the form of the Chennai Unified Metropolitan Transport Authority, CUMTA. Why not assign pedestrian and non-motorised transport issues also to it?

The Tamil Nadu Assembly had in November 2011 approved the setting up of a Chennai Unified Metropolitan Transport Authority (CUMTA). It was a development that was rather late in the day and which ought to have perhaps been set up in the 1980s when the MRTS was planned. Still, it was better late than never and it was hoped that, unlike its rather unwieldy name, it would live up to what was expected of it. Since then, however, not much has been heard of CUMTA or its activities.

Chief among CUMTA’s responsibilities was the preparing of a comprehensive and integrated public transport plan for the city, which included all modes – train, bus and the Metro. It was to also look into the setting up of a common ticket and fare structure to facilitate seamless commuting, something that is in existence in most world-class cities today. Like the CMDA, the CUMTA was to, chiefly, have a planning function and oversee the work of several agencies involved in the running of the transport systems. It would also periodically revise and upgrade its plans. To be headed by the Transport Minister, it had the Chief Urban Planner (Transport) of the CMDA as its Member Secretary. Others on board were the Chief Secretary and the Vice Chairman, CMDA (both ranking as Vice-Chairpersons), the Secretaries of the Departments of Finance, Transport, Home, Housing & Urban Development, and the General Manager of the Southern Railway.

Given such a heavyweight composition, CUMTA could ideally take on the sorting out of the present conflict between the Corporation and the police. It also ought to realise that motorised or rail transport need not be the sole solutions to Chennai’s transport problems. It would be best if one of CUMTA’s objectives were the improvement of pedestrian safety and comfort. Studies have shown that a large chunk of road traffic could be eliminated if short journeys could be accomplished on foot. If so, why not look into this aspect seriously and see if some solution to accommodate pedestrian and cyclists’ interests can be arrived at?