The Tiruvidanthai Temple – an altar for marriage

The marriage altar

 

Tiruvidanthai is a small village around 42kms from Chennai, en route to Mahabalipuram. Its temple is one of the 108 Divya Desams – the shrines sacred to Vaishnavites or devotees to Vishnu. Though small it is nevertheless rich in history and sculpture.

 

The main deity here is Adi Varaha or Vishnu in the form of the boar. He is in a standing posture in the sanctum, with his right leg on the ground and his left leg raised and resting on Adi Sesha, his serpent mount. On his left thigh, he bears his consort, Bhumi Devi, the Earth Goddess. A unique feature here is that Adi Sesha is also depicted with his consort, both of them together below Vishnu’s foot. With both deity and mount in the company of their respective consorts, it is no wonder that this is a shrine that bestows matrimonial bliss.

 

Galava Rishi of mythical times is said to have had 360 daughters. Lord Vishnu arrived as a personable young man and married all of them, at the rate of one a day. On the day the last girl was married off, the sage had a vision of Vishnu and realised that the Lord had been his bridegroom. The Lord also merged all the girls into one and she is worshipped today as Akhilavalli at the shrine. The processional deity in the temple is Nitya Kalyana Perumal (one who is ever auspicious or one who is married everyday).

 

The present temple appears to have come into existence in the 10^th or 11^th century. But there must have been a shrine earlier, for Tirumangai Alwar, one of the 12 Vaishnavite saints and who belonged to the 8^th century, has composed a set of verses on the deity.  These are couched in the form of a mother complaining about her lovesick daughter who is all the while pining for Nitya Kalyana Perumal.

 

The temple is fronted by an exquisite stone mandapam (pavilion) of 16 pillars, rich in sculpture. It has two tanks which are full of water.

 

Men and women desirous of getting married come here all the time. They go around the shrine nine times, wearing floral garlands that have previously been offered to the deity. The belief is that they will find their life partner within a few weeks and after the marriage they are expected to come once again by way of thanksgiving.

 

Till a few years ago hardly anyone would visit this temple. But now, thanks to a dwindling sex ratio, the temple is crowded the whole year round.

 

 

 

Dr U Rama Rau

A man of many parts

 

Aravind Adiga, the author of “The White Tiger” has been awarded the Booker Prize and has been much in the news. As is now well-known, he belongs to an old Chennai based family whose fortunes were founded by his great-grandfather, Dr U Rama Rau. He not only made his mark as a medical man but also left his impress on the social and administrative fabric of Madras city in more ways than one.

 

U Rama Rau was born at Kudur near Udipi in the South Canara district. His father, U Vyasa Rao was an employee of the Palimar Mutt of Udupi, one of the eight monasteries that in succession govern the famed Krishna temple in that town. Family Tradition has it that clan’s ancestors had extensive lands which were all lost during the Fourth Mysore War and by the time Rama Rau appeared on the scene, the family was leading a hand to mouth existence. Rama Rau was given in adoption to U Krishna Rau, a kinsman and had his early schooling in Udupi. While in his teens he came to Madras where he first studied at the Madras Christian College and later at the Madras Medical College where he enrolled for the LIM course.

 

Graduating from the MMC, he set up practice in No 323 (this was the door no. then), Thambu Chetty Street in the busy George Town area of the city. Married by then to Kamala, who was in every way a helpmeet, he also set up home in Thambu Chetty Street, opposite his clinic.  He soon made a name for himself as an excellent physician, his speciality being the treatment of malaria patients, in which activity he was helped by his wife who helped him pack the borax mixtures and quinine thereby enabling their ready availability and quick distribution. Yet another winning strategy was to treat all rickshaw pullers and tonga drivers free of cost and they in turn brought in patients from all over the city! In 1899, he began a pharmacy in the same premises as his clinic. Sri Krishnan Bros, chemists and druggists and also scientific opticians frequently advertised in various journals of the time. His success was also attributed to his being in possession of a gold coin – the Ram Tanka Varaha, probably one of a series minted by the last ruler of Golconda, Abul Hassan Tana Shah, in the 17^th century, in honour of his minister and the great devotee of Rama – Bhadrachala Ramadasa. This coin was given to Dr Rau by the pontiff of the Udupi Mutt and it occupied pride of place in his daily worship.

 

His professional success thus assured, Dr Rama Rau turned his attention to other matters, concerning Madras society and politics. He enrolled as a member of the Congress party and was to remain one all his life. Irked at the fact that despite many Indians in the field it was the English doctors who hogged the limelight, he founded the Indian Medical Association and along with Dr TM Nair, another well-known doctor and one of the leading lights of the Dravidian movement, began “The Antiseptic”, a journal for Indian doctors. Dr Nair was its editor till his passing in 1919 and given the wide-ranging interests of its promoters, the magazine had plenty of articles of general interest including pieces that supported the nationalist cause. After Dr Nair, Dr Rama Rau himself brought out the journal for many years. He also brought out a second journal “Health” for some time. Dr Rau was also President of the Indian Medical Association.

 

Dr Rau, along with Lt. Col. Dr Pandalai, former dean of the Madras Medical College, founded the St John’s Ambulance Association in Madras and was also its Superintendent for some time. When the Indian Red Cross was set up following an Act of the Imperial Legislature in 1920, Dr Rau worked towards getting the South Indian branch set up.

 

In the 1920s, Dr Rama Rau moved home to the upmarket Puraswalkam area where he acquired Hawarden, a sprawling garden house. Here he celebrated Rama Navami, the birth anniversary of Lord Rama with fanfare. The house was to see a steady stream of visitors all through the day and well into the night and soon became a landmark. For some reason it was referred to as Egmore House by the locals.

 

Dr Rama Rau became was a Councillor of the Madras Corporation contemporaneously with Sir Pitty Thyagaraya Chetty.  He was elected as member of the Madras Legislative Council in 1927. While there, he participated in the debates concerning the Anti Nautch Legislation proposed by Dr Muthulakshmi Reddy with whom he sided. Like her, he was a practitioner of medicine and was well aware of the health issues faced by girls who were dedicated to temples. In the initial stages of the debate he was all for complete abolishing of the system but by the end of the year his opinion regarding the art practised by the women was to change, thanks to the All India Music Conference that was held in Egmore in December 1927. This was held in conjunction with the All India Congress Session and Dr Rama Rau was President of the committee that organised the music conference. As is well known, the Music Academy was set up in 1928 following a resolution to that effect in the Music Conference.

 

Dr Rama Rau became the first President of the Music Academy and held that post till 1935. He helped it steer many a financial crisis in its early days, giving ‘Gana Mandir’, his erstwhile residence on Thambu Chetty Street to the Academy free of rent for it to conduct its music performances. The official address of the Academy was that of his clinic. It was at Gana Mandir that Dr Rama Rau came to appreciate the necessity of saving the dance practised by the Devadasis, thanks to a series of performances organised in 1932 by E Krishna Iyer, that indefatigable champion of the arts. Thus while the legislation against the Devadasi system was passed in 1928, Dr Rau and his team at the Music Academy quietly worked on getting the public to appreciate the importance of saving the dance form. In 1933, the traditional art of Sadir was renamed Bharata Natyam and it became more popular. In 1931, the Music Academy had also established its Teachers College of Music and this again functioned from Gana Mandir. Dr Rau donated money for scholarships and prizes to be given out by the Teachers College, though he did not allow his name to be publicised. He also kept the fledgling journal of the Music Academy alive by releasing advertisements of his pharmacy in it and paying for the publication. In later years Dr Rau was not very active in Music Academy affairs, though he did rejoice at its moving from strength to strength. In 1946, when the Music Academy observed Tyagaraja’s death centenary, Dr Rau inaugurated its annual conference. Music however, was very important to Dr Rau and he ensured that all his children and grandchildren learnt it from Lakshmi Das Rao (also known as Dadda), who was a disciple of Harikesanallur Muthiah Bhagavatar, the famed music personality. 

 

An interesting aside in his life was the small but key role he played in getting the composer Purandara Dasa’s songs well known in Madras. Among his patients was Madras Lalithangi, a famed singer of the city. Lalithangi and her husband were facing hard times and Dr Rau assisted them by getting them tuition engagements. Once while visiting his house, Lalithangi heard a Dasa from Mysore, who was lodged at Dr Rau’s residence, sing. She was so enamoured of the songs of Purandara Dasa he sang that she learnt them all and in 1941 published them in Tamil at her own expense.

 

During his tenure at the Legislative Council, Dr Rau was nominated to the Council of States in Delhi. A grand celebration in his honour was held in Bombay by the residents who had migrated there from the South Kanara area. As a member of the Council he participated in several important committees including the Road Development Committee of 1927 which first mooted the idea of a grid of roads divided into National and Provincial Highways, the format of which is still followed. In 1930, following the directive of the Congress Party, he along with other party members resigned from the Legislature and participated in the Civil Disobedience Movement.

 

From 1930 to 32 Dr Rau ran what was called the Congress Hospital in Madras city. This was meant primarily to treat those who were injured in lathi charges while participating in the protests organised by the Congress. In 1937 he once again became a member of the Madras Legislative Council once again. He served as its Chairman till 1943, a post that he accepted at the instance of Rukmini Lakshmipathy. He was a member of the Madras University’s Senate and also on the Madras Medical Council. He was one of the founders of the South Kanara Dravida Brahmin Association and its first President. Later this became the Karnataka Sangha which runs schools in the city even today.

 

Retirement did not exist in Dr Rau’s lexicon and he remained active till his sudden death on 12^th May 1952. His wife survived him by many years, passing away in 1973. Two of his sons Krishna Rau and Mohan Rau  became doctors with extensive practice. Dr Rama Rau had two pieces of advice to give them – 1. Keep plenty of rickshawwallahs around your clinic so that people with associate you with an extensive practice. 2. In the beginning stages of your career take on simple cases and make a success out of them. If you take on something complicated and the patient dies, then everyone will associate you with the death and that is the end of your career. A third son, Sanjeeva Rau died young. His son Vasudeva Rau took over the running of “The Antiseptic” from his grandfather.

Krishna Rau was to follow his father in his political interests, becoming successively Corporation Councillor and Mayor of Madras. He also represented the Harbour Constituency in the Madras Legislative Assembly. In the Rajaji Government between 1952 and 54 he was Minister for Industry, Labour and Public Transport and between 1957 and 61 he was Speaker of the Legislative Assembly. His life was cut short by cancer in 1961.

 

Dr Mohan Rau shone in the medical field and his Surgical Clinic on Poonamallee High Road was a landmark for many years. The clinic closed after his death in 1985 and today, the Dr U Mohan Rau Hospital functions at the same place with his descendants carrying on the medical tradition. It is of interest to note that in his time he was the youngest to qualify for the FRCS. Aravind Adiga is Dr Mohan Rau’s grandson, born of his daughter. Another daughter of Dr Mohan Rau is Thara Mohan Rau who is a well-known columnist in Chennai.

 

Dr Rama Rau too is remembered. The building where his clinic stood is named after him, though Gana Mandir has vanished. Hawarden too is gone, but the Rama Rau Kala Mandap, belonging to the Karnataka Sangha and standing on Habibullah Road, is a much sought after venue for music concerts and is the venue for the Nungambakkam Cultural Academy’s annual music series in December. His portrait presides over the goings on in the Committee Room of the Music Academy. “The Antiseptic” continues as the Indian Medical Association’s journal, now being published in Madurai. The gold coin he worshipped in now in the Raghavendra Swami Mutt, T Nagar. Perhaps the best memorial to him is from his family, which has achieved so much in various walks of life.

 

 

 

 

Remembering Professor P Sambamurthi

My article on the good Prof appeared today. The Hindu has dug out a very nice pic.

 

http://www.hindu.com/fr/2008/10/31/stories/2008103150970400.htm

More on Gokhale Hall

This is a historic building about which I have been writing in the past five years. I have now come to learn more about its usage as a venue for political and nationalist issues. Here are some facts. The irony is that the building is slated for demolition as the owners, the Young Mens Indian Association want to build a highrise here. The High Court of Madras has stayed this pending further action.

 

“The Gokhale Hall has been the scene of great achievements in oratory and public speaking as well as music and the fine arts. It has received with open arms persons of every description without distinction of caste, creed, colour or political persuasion. The Hall ever reminds us of the voice of its founder and no one associated with it can ever forget the inspiration of that voice” – Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru, First Prime Minister of India in a tribute to Gokhale Hall on Armenian Street, Chennai.

 

The voice of the founder and the contributions of Gokhale Hall appear to have been forgotten when the Young Mens Indian Association which owns the place began demolishing the building a few months ago.

 

Annie Besant (1847-1933) is a name that will forever be associated with India’s struggle for freedom. Mrs Besant arrived in India in 1893. By then she was an ardent Theosophist. She became President of the Theosophical Society in 1907 and was re-elected three times. In between she found time to found the Benares Hindu University in 1898. Becoming a member of the Indian National Congress, she became a strident champion for Indian freedom. She edited a newspaper, New India and its articles demanding independence for India ensured it was banned by the British.

 

In 1914, Mrs Besant founded the Young Men’s Indian Association which was meant to provide “a political gymnasium as it were, to equip the youth with a strong body, an informed mind and a noble character to inherit and imbibe the country’s glorious tradition and to take their rightful place as leaders of the future”. In keeping with these ideals, Mrs Besant planned a home for the association which would have a hostel for needy students to stay in and pursue their higher education in Madras city, a library, a canteen, a gymnasium and an oratory which would later become Gokhale Hall. 

 

Her close associate, A Ranganatha Mudaliar writing in the Besant Centenary Volume further added that she confided in him that she meant the venue to be used “when in times ahead when there would be difficulties for free expression of opinion for want of a hall whose authorities were prepared to resist official pressure and let it be used freely even if it was to severely criticise the policy and methods of the Government”. Mrs Besant was clearly foreseeing intensification in the struggle for Indian independence and was meaning to build a suitable venue for it in Madras city.

 

The first office bearers of the YMIA were Sir CP Ramaswami Iyer, Sir Pitty Thyagaraya Chetti, Sir VP Madhav Rao, GA Natesan, Sir T Sadasiva Iyer, FB Tyabji, KS Chandrashekhara Iyer and Sir S Subramania Iyer. Mrs Besant funded the construction of the YMIA’s home in her personal capacity and in the words of Sir CP Ramaswami Iyer, “if Rs 1000 was needed for it, she contributed Rs 999 out of that”. The actual construction cost Mrs Besant Rs 3.00 lakhs. The foundation stone was laid in May 1914 by C Jinarajadasa, noted Theosophist and writer and the construction was supervised by Rao Sahib G Subbiah Chettiar, Hony. Magistrate and Auditor, Madras Customs. The entire building was completed by end 1915 and as Mrs Besant close friend and eminent patriot Gopal Krishna Gokhale had passed away by then, the oratory was named after him. In time Gokhale Hall was to become the face of YMIA.

 

Gokhale Hall, with its magnificent dome, large wooden balcony and large windows providing good ventilation, became the centre for artistic, cultural and literary endeavours. In an era when George Town was the hub of the city, Gokhale Hall was soon in demand. It regularly attracted the attention of the law with its management often being hauled up before the Police Court for allowing “more than the number of people permissible”. The first such instance, known as The Gokhale Hall Case ended on 15^th August 1918 with Sir CP arguing for the Hall and with a fine of Rs 2 being imposed.

 

Under Mrs Besant, the Hall became one of the two foci of the Freedom Struggle, the other being Tilak Ghat on the Beach. At Gokhale Hall, on 3^rd September 1916, Mrs Besant began the Home Rule League in response to Lokmanya Bal Gangadhar Tilak’s Home Rule Movement which began a year earlier in Poona, demanding that Indians be allowed to govern their own country. It was from here that Mrs Besant delivered her famous “Wake Up India” series of lectures asking the average Indian to rise and realise what his country was going through. During this period, she also organized famed mock parliaments in the Hall, to train youth in public speaking. Sarvepalli Gopal, in his biography of his father, Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, mentions that he (S Radhakrishnan) often attended Mrs Besant’s lectures here and was inspired to become a powerful speaker. In response to her Home Rule League, the Government served an arrest warrant on her in 1916. A formal meeting was addressed by her at the Gokhale Hall prior to her internment and this witnessed one of the largest gathering in Madras.

 

In 1917, Sarojini Naidu spoke addressed the  Madras Students Convention about her vision of Freedom. On October 2^nd the same year, Mrs. Besant unveiled portrait of Gandhiji in Gokhale Hall, Madras, on his birthday.

 

Mrs Besant planned a series of Home Rule Deputations to leave for England to lobby with the Government in the 1918. Each deputation was seen off from Gokhale Hall after a formal farewell event.

 

In 1919, Annie Besant set up the 1919 Club to study the proposals made under the

Montague Chelmsford reforms. Her speeches attacking the Act were heard by audiences in rapt attention in the hall. So strident were her criticisms about the Act, that she incurred the wrath of everyone in the Establishment, including the Viceroy, Lord Chelmsford.

 

Over the years Gokhale Hall witnessed speeches by Pt Jawaharlal Nehru, S Satyamurthi, Morarji Desai, K Kamraj and others. Nonagenarians today remember climbing onto the dome of the Hall and looking down through the windows to just get a glimpse of Nehru and other great leaders. In particular Pt Nehru’s speech on 8^th October 1936 on Socialism and the Indian Struggle witnessed record participation.

 

The Hall played an important role in language politics as well. The Hindi movement in south India was started in the year 1918 by Mahatma Gandhi. The movement was inagurated by Dr.Besant at Gokhale Hall, Madras. The first Hindi class was started here by Devdas Gandhi. Later in the 1950s it became the venue for anti-Hindi demonstrations as well, with C Rajagopalachari addressing mammoth crowds in favour of Tamil. Tamil language issues were discussed here too when in 1940, the Madras Presidency Government decided to appoint a committee headed by the Rt.Hon. VS Srinivasa Sastry to look into the development of a standard lexicon to facilitate teaching of science in Tamil schools. A very important development was the formation of the Madras Presidency Tamil Sangam which met here on 31^st August 1941 to protest against the recommendations of the committee which had included several Sanskrit words. The meeting was addressed by Sir Mohammed Usman, then Vice Chancellor of the Madras University and also scholars such as Arul Thangiah, TP Meenakshisundaram Pillai and S Muthiah Mudaliar.

 

 

The Labour Movement in Madras too used the Gokhale Hall as a venue with BP Wadia addressing a large gathering of workers here in 1917.  One of the biggest demonstrations by the workers of the Buckingham and Carnatic Mills took place here in the same year.

 

Gokhale Hall played venue to the rise of the Self Respect Movement as well. One of the earliest speeches by Thanthai Periyar was made here in September 1917 when he stressed the need for a Self Respect Movement. In 1929 Sir A Ramaswami Mudaliar spoke here on 15^th April on the first anniversary of the founding of the Dr TM Nair Literary Association and this theme was on the evils of the caste system. The Justice Party which was the forerunner of most of the other self respect movements often held its meetings in Gokhale Hall.

 

In the field of Fine Arts, the Hall remained a famed venue for long. The Indian Fine Arts Society, which turned 75 last year, held programmes here from inception. Prior to that, the Hall was home to several of the older Sabhas such as the Muthialpet Sabha, the Sri Krishna Gana Sabha (not the present one) and the Tondaimandalam Sabha. It was here that the seeds of the Tamil Isai Movement were sown when patrons such as Raja Sir Annamalai Chettiar and writers such as Kalki R Krishnamurthy highlighted the fact that Tamil was not given due importance on the Carnatic platform. This brought Tamil into greater focus and led to the founding of the Tamil Isai Sangam which soon built its headquarters not far from here.

 

Short and Snappy – October 16th 2008

Mada Street Mayhem

 

The four Mada Streets around Mylapore’s Kapaliswarar Temple are always abuzz with action and they are among the favourite hangouts of the Man from Madras Musings. MMM being the kind who likes to stand and stare (and as someone rather nastily pointed out – has the time and resources to do it as well) always leaves his vehicle at some distance from this heritage precinct and walks through this area as often as he can. There are days when these walks necessitate MMM to weave through vehicles and then there is the one day of the year when MMM along with many hundred others progresses step by step or inch by inch and that is the day of the Arupattu Moovar festival which happens in March/April. But come the festival of nine nights or Navaratri and MMM can only hop, skip and jump, for the footpaths, such as they are and the roads themselves are taken over by the doll makers who hawk their clay dolls from every nook and cranny on North Mada Street. Not that MMM is complaining. In fact MMM loves it and looks forward to this year after year. It teaches some of the supremely arrogant shopping establishments on this street to learn to adjust and participate in a spirit of give and take.

 

This year, the crowds, apart from haggling over and buying dolls, were also divided into two groups. The first felt that the rush this year was unprecedented while the other group felt that it was nothing compared to last year. The same discussions prevail year after year. At the same time none can say that the crowds were anyway thin.

 

Given that the street was full of buyers and vendors all keen on doing what is a once in a year business, MMM thinks it was completely unfair on the part of our political lords and masters to hold a public meeting in Mangollai, the eastern end of North Mada Street, right in the middle of the Navaratri festival. It displayed a lack of sensitivity for security concerns not only blocked off public movement but also dampened sales. And when you consider that these dolls are sold only for nine days in a full year, every day, no, make that every minute, counts for the poor vendors.

 

Leaving aside the political lords and masters who cannot be expected to be sensitive to local events (except during election campaigns), surely, the city’s police force ought to have been aware of the festival and suggested an alternative location for the political meeting. But then, you don’t expect such sensitivity from the force either. MMM made bold to question one of the officers in charge on the wisdom of holding such a meeting during Navaratri and he (the officer) merely smiled and said that there were pressures from high places. Apparently Mangollai is a prestigious place for holding high profile meetings.

 

The end result? The street was cordoned off and everyone was subjected to high decibel music for two days. Flags, festoons and posters came up everywhere on the street and most of Mylapore bore the brunt of the chaos that resulted. But then, the bosses were pleased and that is all that counts.

 

Areas such as Mangollai were once designated as venues for public meetings because there were quiet and open locations which were not in the way of mainstream traffic. But all that has changed. The area is full of residential buildings and offices and the very idea of holding meetings in the midst of all this is a resident’s and pedestrian’s nightmare. It is high time the police force took a relook at the places it permits political parties to hold their meetings in. Will they ever do it? Or will this also need public interest litigation?

 

Duty be damned

 

The great statesman whose centenary is being observed in the state held his motto to be “Duty, Dignity, Discipline”. And lived by it. The first word itself is Duty. Given this, the Man from Madras Musings wonders as to the logic of declaring a public holiday on the day of the leader’s centenary. Not only did government servants, who ought to have been slaving away at their desks on such a red letter day stay at home and no doubt watched mega serials on television, banks were declared closed as well. And this when the half yearly closing of accounts was nigh! Then there was an appeal to private organisations to close as well. Fortunately many did not pay heed to this and chose to pay their homage to the leader by working harder. But that did not prevent a few local toughs from calling at some offices and demanding that they close down in keeping with the directive from “up above”. How does all this tie up with Duty, MMM ponders. And does Discipline mean pasting posters concerning the centenary on all available spaces?

 

Railway Roundabouts

 

For months now, the Man from Madras Musings has noticed that the automated announcements at the Central Station, which inform us in dulcet tones over the public address system about the arrival and departure of trains has been malfunctioning. Given that it has to announce in three languages, namely English, Tamil and Hindi, it has no doubt gone around the bend. Consequently it leaves out some key chunks of information and the announcements now go something like this:

 1^st iteration

“Train number (blank), Bangalore Mail going to Bangalore from Chennai will leave from platform no 3 at 11.15 pm”

 

2^nd iteration

 

“Train number 2657, (blank) going to Bangalore from Chennai will leave from platform no 3 at 11.15 pm”

 

3^rd iteration

 

“Train number 2657, Bangalore Mail going to (blank) from Chennai will leave from platform no 3 at 11.15 pm”

 

4^th iteration

 

“Train number 2657, Bangalore Mail going to Bangalore from will leave from platform no 3 at 11.15 pm”

 

And so on. You get the picture. So if you need the complete information, you need to stand near the PA system, sharpen your ears above the general din and wait till a full round of announcements in three languages complete with all the iterations is over. And this takes time. And so MMM prefers the electronic display board instead. But then, like all good systems, this too is fallible. For further details see accompanying photograph taken by MMM on 9^th October. For those whose eyesight is not what is ought to be, MMM gives further details. As per the display board, the Bangalore Mail terminates at Alleppey while the Yercaud Express terminates at Erode and the Alleppey Express terminates at Dhanbad. Someone has evidently blundered. MMM hopes that this is not a portent of further joys ahead.

 

 

 

 

 

Attempting to beautify nature

The Elliots Beach in Besant Nagar is in the new again, thanks to the Corporation of Chennai’s ongoing ‘beautification’ drive. The latest controversy is over the construction of several concrete structures in the beach as part of this activity. The question is – are such man-made intrusions at all necessary to improve upon nature’s handiwork?

 

Residents of the Besant Nagar area are up in arms over the construction of a 750 metre long concrete platform which the Corporation claims will be a viewing gallery for people to sit in and enjoy the beach. Environmental activists have cried foul as such structures violate Coastal Regulation Zone rules which prevent permanent constructions near the sea. The gallery also encroaches upon the beach space. Locals argue that those who come to the beach would prefer to sit on the sand and not in special shelters. However, the Corporation is adamant and is going ahead with the construction claiming that it is part of the beach beautification plan. This is not the first time that residents and environmentalists have fought the Corporation’s plans for the beach. The construction of the Governor’s Bungalow which still continues it fits and starts has been a sore point as well.

 

Elsewhere, on the Marina beachfront, similar activities are going on as well. The beachfront which according to many is already beautiful enough is being worked upon by the Corporation. As a consequence, several stretches of the footpath which only a few years ago was laid with interlocking bricks and which was in a very good condition, have been ripped open and work is going on to lay new pathways. There is also a proposal to landscape the entire area with lawns, artificial mounds, more statuary and lights. This is entirely an unnecessary activity as those who come to the beach do so for enjoying the sea, the waves, the sand and the sun and do not look for ornamental gardens. It is the considered view of beach regulars that the Corporation would be better off spending this money on other areas which are badly in need of basic civic amenities with nothing being done for them.

 

The civic authorities’ ideas on realigning or changing the face of natural beauty are not new. The continuing feud between the Consumer Action Group and the Corporation over the Adyar Creek is yet another instance of the same. The CAG has continuously opposed any move to build information centres and other structures at the Creek and only this has ensured that the place has not been transformed into a built up area.

 

In the meanwhile, the threats to open spaces by way of beautification continue in other forms as well. The Madi Poonga on the old city wall was decrepit but still accessible till it was taken over for beautification. Despite being a part of a structure protected by the Archaeological Survey of India, it was transformed into something out of a cinema set and then permanently locked up! Now it appears that the open park opposite Fort St. George will have a similar fate. This space, part of land reclaimed from the sea was originally a tree lined park and later was transformed into a car-parking facility for visitors to Fort St George. The open space was macadamised and left as it is for this. In 2003 there was a proposal to construct a helipad here for the use of the Chief Minister but this was later shelved. Recently this park is witnessing hectic construction activity. Bricks have been stored here and forklifts and other mobile equipment have made it their home. Those who man the security of this place when asked about what was coming up did not have a clear answer. But is it wise to build anything permanent here considering that it faces a heritage precinct?

 

All photos in this post are by Saravanan

 

The Power Crisis in Tamil Nadu

The power crisis has come to stay in the state of Tamil Nadu. For many months now, power cuts for over six hours in the towns and villages of the state have been the norm. Chennai, which till recently was spared the rigours of power shedding has now been brought into the ambit. This poses a question on the state trying to attract more and more investment, giving assurances of uninterrupted power supply.

 

Load shedding which was originally meant for an hour or so, has now been extended to three hours in many suburbs of the city. While this has affected homes and commercial establishments, the industries in and around the city (High Tension power consumers) have been hit hard by strict regulations on hours of load shedding, with many units being forced to shut down operations for an entire day each week. Industry sources are also upset over the fact that while manufacturing units consume only 35% of the 9500 MW power consumption in Tamil Nadu, they are being forced to suffer load shedding far more than domestic consumers. Many units have begun operating shifts with the help of diesel generators, but this is proving to be an expensive solution which is affecting the bottom line. There is also a growing feeling among indigenous industries that the state bit off far more than it could chew when it came to inviting large projects to set up base in and around Chennai. The increase in power consumption was not thought through in their opinion and there is also a feeling that multinationals are being given power at the expense of domestic companies. While there may be no basis for such a view, it does indicate that the state government has laid the ground for a potentially explosive situation on the power front. Perhaps it was against this background that the state only made a few feeble noises about bidding for the Nano project which eventually went to Gujarat.

 

There is no short term solution to the power crisis in the city and the state. Interestingly, on paper, the state can still claim to have surplus power for it has around 10500 MW installed capacity. However real time production is less. Poor rains have affected hydro- power and the shortage of fuel has meant that the atomic power plant at Kalpakkam is operating at sub-optimum capacity. Relief to some extent is expected when the Koodamkulam plant is commissioned in about six months from now. Most of the newly approved power units are only in the land identification stage right now. The losses in transmission and distribution of power are also significant with the state-controlled Electricity Board not performing at expected levels. Industry lobbies have been demanding the unbundling of production, distribution and transmission of power in the state to improve this, but there has been no response. The state government has on the other hand approached HT consumers with a proposal that they share the cost of power during evening hours. This if accepted will ensure that there is some relief given to units that rely on generators for their power during evening and other peak requirements.

 

If at all there is a bright side to the story, it is the increasing focus on non-conventional sources of energy. IT majors who account for at least 500MW of power consumption during peak-hours have begun discussing the viability of using solar panels. At least one IT major in the city has begun working with wind energy. The month of September in fact saw the shortfall in power in the state coming down due to a doubling of the wind power generated – from 600 MW to 1200 MW. It is to be hoped that such new thrusts will help in pulling the power sector out of its present mess.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sruti – Daring, Dedicated

Cant believe that this magazine is 25 years old! But then I am 42! It seems like yesterday when my cousin sister Malini brought the first issue home. That was in Calcutta and the copy still survives with me.

 

http://www.hindu.com/fr/2008/10/17/stories/2008101751130400.htm

Sangeetha Sthalams – Remembering Alapana, Sruti’s first home

“Last night I dreamt I was in Alapana again”. If I had been the nameless central character of Daphne du Maurier’s “Rebecca”, I would have probably begun thus. Whenever I think of Sruti’s old home, “Alapana” on J.J.  Road, I feel nostalgic.

 

For a long time it was only the address of a magazine that I read as I grew up. Years later, when I settled down in Madras, I would frequently pass by the private road that led to the house. I knew that “Sruti” came from there, but I never had the occasion to visit. Then in 1999, www.sangeetham.com happened and my life became filled with music, in more ways than one. That was when I made friends with people like S. Rajam and Randor Guy, both of whom contributed to the site and with regular browsers of the site such as K.V. Ramanathan. V. Ramnarayan did a story for The Hindu about the site and became a close friend and V.A.K. Ranga Rao, into whose ken websites have still not swum in, but who kept himself abreast of that world, became an advisor and critic. Sanjay Subrahmanyan and I interviewed Gowri Ramnarayan for the site. Lakshmi Devnath was contributing content to an American site and we got to collaborate as well. All these people had had something to do with Sruti in one way or the other and so it was but natural that I too would get pulled in. And in any case, Sruti was a major source of content for our site too!

 

My first visit to Alapana happened when Sanjay suggested I do an interview with N. Pattabhi Raman (NPR) for our site. So I called the number. It was engaged. I called again, after an hour or so, it was still engaged. I called a couple of hours later. Still the same. Later I would get to know that the telephones in Alapana would always be busy, especially when the Editor-in-Chief was around. He liked to talk for long on the phone, but he was never dull or boring. In fact the conversation would regularly be punctuated with laughter, though many of his jokes were unprintable. At times, I am told, depending upon who the caller was, the Chief would change his voice and reply that he was the office boy, and assure the caller that he would pass on his/her name to the Chief!

 

When I did get through, Pat Raman or P. Orr or Ram Aslesha or Narayanan Pillai or Manirangu or N. Pattabhi Raman or NPR (was he Anami too?) was affability itself. He had seen our site he said and would be most happy to talk. But he warned me that the conversation would continuously veer towards Samudri, which was by then his pet project.

 

I reached the private road at the appointed time and my first recollection is of seeing Janaki leaning out of a balcony rather like the Blessed Damozel (who if you recollect did the same only she used a gold bar from heaven) and asking me to step in. Alapana was really artistic. Even the watchman cum gardener, Jothirlingam, was an expert in bhajans and had been a stage-artist in his time. After greeting him and admiring a stone Nandi and a Yali, you walked down a narrow passage which led to a stone mandapam with a Ganesha idol in it. This was duly washed and decorated each Friday by Balu, who was and is Sruti’s man of all work. Halfway to this mandapam you turned left into the main entrance of the house. This was fronted by a pair of grille gates which were invariably locked and you banged on them to gain someone’s attention. On being ushered in to a verandah of sorts with an arched entranceway, the first thing that struck you was a series of square panels high on the walls, each of which had one of Vishnu’s ten avatara-s done in stained glass. Perhaps this was Pattabhi Raman’s throwback to his maternal grandfather’s home Sri Baugh in Luz which had ten entrances, each of which had a painting depicting one of the Dasavatara-s. On the ground level, there was a tap, where you were expected to wash your feet before you went in. I must confess I never adhered to this rule.

 

There were wooden chairs on either side.  An ornate oonjal (swing) as wide as a table was the centrepiece of this verandah, spruced up on either side with crotons. During the Chief’s heyday this was, rather as in Shah Jahan’s Red Fort, the most that casual visitors managed to penetrate Sruti’s office. They were entertained here and then sent on their way. Those who knew the Chief or his deputy (in Mogul times she would have been the Wajif Dar) a little better were allowed into the drawing room.

 

From the verandah at the entrance if you turned left, you entered the drawing room. If you turned right there was an enormous dining room (with a large dining table) which had a huge Tanjavur painting of Ganesas in it. Pattabhi Raman was obsessed with the elephant headed god and often conducted special pooja-s to propitiate him. Sruti has played host to many birthday parties, Sruti staffers get-togethers, Christmas and New Year celebrations in the dining room. These were occasions when the Chief’s exquisite crockery including Wedgwood, Royal Doulton and Spode would be on display. Beyond this dining room were the domestic offices of which I never got to see much. The Chief’s wants were few and were ministered to by some domestics, none of whom apparently matched up to Rajammal, a legendary figure whom I never met. She had once been in the service of the chief and then there had been a misunderstanding of sorts and had flounced off never to return. This too was a frequent occurrence with the chief.

 

The drawing room as I said was on the left. This was a large square and had two entrances from the verandah. The far end of this room had the stairway leading upstairs. To the left of the staircase was a long cupboard fronted with wooded doors all of them richly carved. Behind this cupboard was the music room where the chief’s spool tapes and discs were stored. Behind this room was the “computer room” where Sudha, our long suffering and patient page layout-in-charge worked on a worn out, slow and outdated PC with probably some equally old software. She was invariably the one who heard the doors being banged by someone requiring admission and would let us in. There were two more PCs in that room.

 

The drawing room had a set of comfortable sofas, an oonjal converted into a table, a drum seat, and some excellent Tanjavur paintings, but its striking features were some of the chief’s collection of bronzes, including Bhuvarahaswami, the model for the Whispering Gallery’s masthead. His positioning was appropriate, for this was the room where those that leaked the secrets of the Music Academy (the mandarins of the Meccademy in Anami-speak) and other establishments of the music world came after sunset, polished off the chief’s whiskey and poured their tales into Anami’s eager ears. If you looked up you could see the whispering gallery itself, rising over the wooden beams, for the ceiling of the drawing room rose to the full height of the house and halfway through it a gallery ran around the entire room, on the same level as the first floor. The drawing room had seen many animated discussions on music and dance, on Sruti, Samudri and a few chamber concerts as well and it was perhaps for the last named that the room’s layout was most appropriate. It had echoed to the melodious music of  T. Viswa, Lakshmi Shankar, Rita Ganguly, S. Rajam and Vellore Ramabhadran; and presented a perfect foil to the abhinaya of  Lakshmi Knight, and dancers of Shree Bharatalaya. It was also in this room that the interview with D.K. Pattammal, which appeared in the first issue of Sruti, was recorded. Over the years, many famous personalities had added to the aura of this hall.

 

On climbing the staircase you reached the whispering gallery. Once again, during the Chief’s reign none bar a few very close associates really got this far. This was the Diwan-e-Khas. But in KVR’s time this rule was relaxed. En route, on the first landing, a big Nataraja icon and a beautiful Mysore painting of Vishnu greeted you, sharing the space. The gallery housed more bronzes, some Tanjore and Mysore paintings and the chief’s collection of masks. The walls here had cupboards let into the wooden panelling and this was where the Sruti library of books was housed. Surprisingly for a man of refined tastes, the chief also stored some hideous awards that he had received over the years and they seemed most out of place in the setting.

 

When I first interviewed Pattabhi Raman, we conversed in the drawing room and so I never ventured upstairs. We became friends and he would often call me over the phone and we did meet up a couple of times later. It was after his death that KVR, who took over as editor in chief, asked me to write for Sruti and it was then I got to see the editorial sanctum and beyond.

 

This room was on the first floor and was on the right as you came to the gallery. It was wall-papered and had some fine rosewood furniture, a console table that had the phone on it being particularly handsome. The chief’s desk was a huge piece in rosewood with drawers on either side. This table had one PC (an old model of course) with two keyboards! — one for the chief and the other for Janaki who sat on the opposite side. Their swivelling chairs were made of rose wood as well. There were a few wooden chairs for the contributing editors and writers who called on them. Behind the chief’s chair was an interesting chest with innumerable small pull-out drawers which housed a collection of photo negatives, cassettes, visiting cards and other odds and ends. There was also an exquisite roll top desk. Visitors sat on chairs or on a long spring sofa. The Sruti files were neatly arranged in rows inside two ingeniously designed wooden closets with sliding doors and built in shelves beneath. This was the room from where Pat Raman planned the Sruti issues, inspired Anami and others to write, waged wars over phoney Ph.Ds or poisonous dissertations, baited the Academy and Semmangudi (behind the chief’s chair was a photo of Semmangudi with his mouth wide open), pondered over the finances of the magazine and puzzled over the fact that despite his best efforts and some of the finest English, people preferred to borrow Sruti over buying it. This was also where he must have consulted his senior editors and writers such as KVR, S. Rajam, T. Sankaran, S. Krishnan, V.S. Sundara Rajan, Mohan Khokar and received colleagues like Sethuraman (Aruna Sairam’s father), Manna Srinivasan and Sunil Kothari. A large and comfortable chair in the corner was T. Sankaran’s perch during the discussions and was also used by the chief during his unending telephone calls.

 

This was also where Janaki retyped almost everything we sent in by email! In the Chief’s time this was needed because he gleefully “mauled” beyond recognition whatever people sent in. But by the time I came in this was because Sruti used some outmoded DOS based software which could not take in Word!! Across the gallery and above the dining room, were the bedrooms. All the rooms had numbers. These were reached through a small passageway that had skylights. The walls of this passage had some exquisite Ravi Varma prints and some lovely photographs clicked by Pat Raman. There was one big bedroom with a four-poster bed and this was the guest bedroom! Persons like T. Sankaran, B.M. Sundaram, Vincent Warren, Janak Khendry, who would talk well into the night and stay over. The other bedrooms, including the Chief’s (which was distinguished by a stone bed) were so tiny that they could accommodate only one person. The size of the rooms probably explained why the Chief was a night bird who rarely slept and invariably began his discussions after nine at night. These would be animated and raucous (though not as booming as Pat Raman singing in his bath every morning according to an ASS (a Sruti Staffer). Tara and (Hindu) N. Murali once told me that they could often hear every word from their house which was across the garden. One of these rooms was converted into “the email room” where on yet another outmoded PC, a lethargic dial up connection accessed email. This was from where Sruti’s e-mail contacts were established and maintained, and the Sruti website sruti.com was updated, this process sometimes taking days given the speed of the net connection. This PC was home to many viruses and would often collapse leading to complete suspension of  Sruti work till it had been ministered to and revived. But there never was a disruption in the publication of Sruti in all these years.

 

A flight of stairs led you up to the air-conditioned “dark room” where audio and videotapes, rare books and photographs were stored. Another flight of stairs led you to a half-closed terrace which had a roof garden. This is where on one side, the archival files of Sruti/Samudri were stocked in bureaus. I was told that on top of the Chief’s office room there was an open lawn with an adjoining terrace garden covered with a sunshade, which was the venue for an occasional New Year concert by the likes of Vani Jairam. I never got that far. Taken all in all, it was a strange house, planned in a unique fashion to suit the Chief’s tastes and perhaps ideally suited only for a specialised magazine!

 

Spread out as the rooms were at Alapana, the Sruti team or Sruti parivaar as its better known, had no intercom and communication was by means of a trumpet! This was stationed in the Chief’s sanctum and Janaki was the one who blew on it. One long note meant the person was wanted in the Sruti office upstairs; two short beeps indicated an incoming phone call; and three  notes signalled it was time for tea! Most of the time the staff hollered out. Despite the Chief’s insistence none dared call him by name and as he detested the term “Sir” messages for him went out without any noun or pronoun like this – “Please come at once” “Ready for an edit?” etc.

 

 

By the time I got to know the place well, Alapana was a ghostly mansion (wo)manned by Janaki, Sudha and Vasundhara (the archivist), with Nandakumar, Balu and Jothirlingam helping out. KVR would come in almost every day in the morning. In the last few years at Alapana, after the chief’s passing, Manna Srinivasan too was a regular visitor as he spent more time in Chennai after his retirement in Delhi. He always kept the mood upbeat with his unfailing cheerfulness and continuous conversation. There was only one problem. When Mannaji visited, the phones got even busier!

 

One aspect of the team (leaving aside KVR) was that they would almost always be munching on something or the other. The ‘norukku teeni’ standards were high and if it was not chocolate biscuit it was bhujia or dry fruits or mixture (ahhhhh! That South Indian term) and tea was almost always available on tap. Considering that Sruti in those days rarely paid contributors and kept its staff on low salaries, it did well in the light snacks department — that was because the tasty snacks were brought from home! And yet everyone on board was thin!

 

During the chief’s time, Sruti had its mascots in the shape of two endearing Labradors Haseeb and Kutti, which were housed  in an enclosure adjoining  the house. They would at times wriggle out and run up to the Sruti office to chew up whatever papers were carelessly left  on the ground, much to the discomfiture of the Sruti staff.  After the Chief’s time Sruti had its office cat, a small black one which often curled up on chairs and had to be cajoled to move out when visitors called and needed to be seated. This was a later entrant after the chief’s passing and considering that she often lorded over his chair, I had my doubts about her previous birth. Jillu as she was called, was ever hungry and always demanded her share of the eats. She was also remarkably fecund and produced a litter every year all of whose members were fed and cared for by Sruti. There are unconfirmed rumours that there was a move to show Jillu and her descendants as Sruti employees when Sanmar took over Sruti but a hawk-eyed Chartered Accountant saw through the deception. I hope Jillu and her Jillites are doing well wherever they are now. There was also a koel that resided in one of the large trees in the private garden. This would trill lovely notes, in keeping with the musical nature of the place and could be heard when you called over the phone (that is if you ever got through).

 

In the final months before the happy shift to Sanmar, Pat Raman’s heirs began listing and disposing off his bronzes and the paintings. I wonder where Bhuvarahaswami has gone. Whose house is he gracing now? Does he reflect on all the secrets that he overheard and smile and say “Adi okka yugamu”? But a small part of Alapana survives with me! Knowing my admiration for Pattabhiraman’s desk, chairs and console table, Janaki ensured I could purchase them. They adorn my study and I write sitting at the same desk.  <>

 

 

Govt. pushes Chennai Master Plan II

Government approves Chennai Master Plan II

-          but serious questions and doubts remain unanswered

 

The Tamil Nadu Government, on 2^nd September approved the Chennai Metropolitan Area (CMA) plan which aims by 2026 to transform the city into “a prime metropolis”. Those who had seen the earlier plan and participated in the public discussions that followed were in for a shock. The document as approved by the government appeared to vary significantly from what was proposed, debated and agreed especially with reference to

 

• restrictions on building heights,
• floor space index (FSI)
• and the protection of natural habitats.

 

This has irked activists and those concerned with the city’s future. It would appear that the process of public consultation was a sham and the government has gone ahead with what it had made up its mind to do from the very beginning.

 

The builders’ lobby has welcomed the plan, especially the permitting of MSBs along roads where they were hitherto disallowed. In addition, a relaxation of rules on the Floor Space Index permissible for each area has also been recommended. This is also expected to boost real estate development in the city. That the government has largely worked at the behest of the builders’ lobby is clear from the fact that the area surrounding the Pallikaranai marsh was initially notified in the approved master plan as agricultural/vacant space but within two days of the plan being notified was changed to primary residential area.

 

The Commissioner of the Corporation claims that the new plan looks at vertical development of the city which will translate into a smaller and therefore more easily manageable area to govern. A larger area he opines, will be more difficult to administer and provide amenities for. This flies in the face of logic and in the way cities have developed all over the world. The emphasis has been on decongestion and encouraging the spreading out into suburbs. The Chennai administration itself has been doing this for some time, albeit in a half-hearted fashion. The Koyambedu Vegetable Market was planned as an alternative to Kothwal Chawadi, the Sattangadu Iron Market came as a replacement to the one in George Town and the prison moved from Park Town to Puzhal. In the light of these, the argument in favour of congested, vertical development fails.

 

Those concerned with spatial development of the city are not happy with the plan. The relaxing of Floor Space Index (FSI) norms for builders who are promoting housing for low income groups in the city is the first area of concern. In a metro where there is hardly any space on the roads for free movement, the relaxing of FSI will only mean further congestion and less scope for ventilation and easy access. This in turn means more dependence on artificial methods of lighting and cooling which will necessitate greater consumption of power. The demands that greater density in housing will place on ground water and sewage have also not been taken into account while making these recommendations. Parking space, which is recent years has become a problem of great magnitude is only going to worsen with the tightly packed buildings that will come up. It is also highly doubtful if the Chennai Metropolitan Development Authority can administer its rules and watch out for violations. The relaxing of FSI and allowing of high-rise in the city would mean more potential for violation. It would also mean greater demand for allied infrastructure such as water, road space and electricity. Given the past track records of approvals and actions taken for violation, this would only see an administration that is not geared up to handle the demands placed on it. The absence of any kind of zoning which Chennai has adopted in the past decade or so continues in this plan as well. It is clear that in the entire development exercise, the quality of life in the city has received no attention.

 

Even as the document speaks of inclusive development and the need to provide transport solutions, the metro rail corridors have been left out of it. How such an important development which will have a direct impact on city life can be considered outside the purview of the master plan is a mystery. It is clear that the concept of public transport has been completely overlooked. A city with the population density of Chennai needs effective public transport if the roads are to be decongested. This sentiment was recently expressed by none other than the Finance Minister of India at a city based event when he said that in the past India had made the mistake of catering only to private car owners and the trend would have to change to one of effective public transport. The plan makes no mention of how usage of public transport is going to be encouraged.

 

The second important aspect overlooked in the plan for a new city in the south, for which the exercise of road networks and site layouts near Vandalur has already begun. It appears that the entire plan has been an inward looking exercise with no touch with ground reality.

 

From a national point of view, the plan makes no effort to translate national policies on water, roads and slums in to the plan. It is clearly an exercise in isolation, where an administration, devoid of any planning concepts has paid homage at the altar of real estate.

 

Interestingly, the first master plan was made thirty three years ago. Even then, the city was divided into 96 planning zones and out of these, the plans for only 56 were implemented. The balance has remained on paper. It is to be seen how soon the detailed plans at the local level based on the new master plan take off.