Pioneering the Midday Meal in schools

The Hindu Theological School, Mint Street

Today, it is praised as one of the reasons for Tamil Nadu’s leading position in literacy. Generations of children from poor families came to school because of the one square meal they could have and then stayed on, to study. The idea, now implemented across the country as the National Programme for Nutrition Support to Primary Education had its origins in a humble school in Mint Street, George Town.

The Hindu Theological School was founded in 1889, by a pioneering educationist – Sivasankara Pandya. He passed away in 1899 but the school flourished. In 1918, it took on its rolls as a teacher yet another personality – Kurichi Rangaswami Aiyangar. Born in 1888 in Tanjavur District, he aimed for a degree in law. When unsuccessful in his first attempt, he joined the Hindu Theological.

Kurichi Rangaswami Aiyangar

Among his first observations was that several of the poor children of the George Town area did not come to school. He also observed that among those who attended, several remained hungry during the lunch break, as the parents could not afford to send any food. Perhaps taking a leaf from the Chennapuri Annadana Samajam, which had begun sending cooked food to schools, he decided that the Hindu Theological would have its own kitchen. He seeded it with his savings and later aggressively canvassed for support from the parents of well-to-do students. The Deenabandhu Sangam was formed shortly thereafter which took on the task of providing the noon meal and also clothes to indigent students.

Aiyangar was to pass his law exam the subsequent year. He quit his job and donned the gown to practise law in Kumbhakonam. But the call of education was too strong. He was back at the Hindu Theological a short while later and stayed on to become headmaster in 1929. Ten years later he became Secretary and Correspondent from which post he retired in 1944. He was immediately asked to take over as the Joint Secretary of the Lady Sivaswami Iyer Girls School in Mylapore. He became Secretary in 1953 and remained so till his passing in 1973. Widowed early in life, he chose not to remarry and dedicated his life to the two schools. In later years, he lived in a room in the Lady Sivaswami School.

The mid-day meal scheme was adopted in the 1920s by the Sourashtra community for a school it ran in Madurai. In 1956, K Kamaraj, then Chief Minister, introduced the scheme in some of the State-run schools. MGR, in1982, expanded the scheme, bringing into its ambit all the schools in the State run by the Government. His detractors derided it as a populist move, which would drain the State exchequer. MGR went ahead regardless and the results are now available for all to see. In 2005, following a Supreme Court order, the scheme became compulsory in all States. A small seed sowed by Rangaswami Aiyangar had become a massive tree.

The schools he nurtured continue to stand testimony to his greatness.

This article appeared today in The Hindu – http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/chennai/article3570254.ece

Some Muttuswami Dikshitar kritis on Shiva

Muttuswami Dikshitar (1776-1835) was unique among the Carnatic Trinity for it was he alone who adopted an eternally peripatetic lifestyle, visiting pilgrimage centre after centre. In each of these places, he not only studied the iconography, the temple lore and modes of worship in detail, he also wove them all into his compositions, making them musical documentations of our temple traditions. Perhaps it is this unique amalgam that has made his songs the subject of endless study and debate by scholars. Shiva as a deity would perhaps rank after Devi and Subrahmanya in terms of the number of compositions left behind by Muttuswami Dikshitar. But there are several great pieces on Him. Here we take a look at a few of the manifestations of Shiva that have been worshipped by Dikshitar in song.

The most common iconographic representation of Shiva would be the linga. In Vedaranyam apart from the linga, Shiva is represented as a bridegroom in resplendent attire and in the company of His bride, in the same sanctum. This was to enable Agastya have a vision of the divine wedding that took place in Kailasa. Dikshitar describes Shiva and Parvati together in his kriti attributed to this shrine – shrI pArvati paramEshvarau vandE (raga bhauLi). He says, as befitting a newly-wed couple, they are bedecked with jewels and rich raiment (ApAdamastakAlankArau) and that they are worshipped by Agastya, the husband of Lopamudra (lOpAmudrEshArcita caraNau). Rama is said to have been rid of the sin of killing Ravana here and hence the divine couple are also described as pApApaha. The raga mudra is skillfully woven into the lines chitbimbau lIlAvigrahau

Tiruchirapalli (trishiragiri) has the unique rock-fort at its centre. Halfway up this rock is the shrine to Matrubhuteshvara and His consort Sugandhikuntalamba (sugandhikuntalAmbA samEtam). The Lord here is so called because He manifested himself as a mother to a young Chetti woman who was in the throes of labour. Dikshitar composed his shrI mAtrubhUtam in raga kannaDa in praise of this deity. The raga mudra is in the line nata shuka sanakam naLa kAmAdi vijaya. The legend behind the temple is mentioned in the line vaishyajAtI strI vESha dharaNam. Rather uniquely, Shiva here sports the sun instead of the moon in his locks and is called sUryashEkara. The song states this in the line shirOdhrta sUrya gangam. Shiva is worshipped here with javanti flowers and is also called Javantinathar. This also finds a mention in the last lines of the song.

The song rudrakOpa jAta (raga rudrapriya) depicts Shiva as Veerabhadra, who along with Bhadrakali manifested when Shiva, angered over the death of his wife Sati, tore at his locks and split a hair into two. Having manifested Himself thus, Veerabhadra proceeded to destroy the sacrifice of Daksha, the father of Sati who having insulted Shiva caused her death. Veerabhadra cut off Daksha’s head but the latter, being a prajapati (one of the divine creators) needed to remain alive and so had his head replaced with that of a goat. The song describes the Lord as the beloved of Bhadrakali (bhadrakAli ramaNam). It also states that he chastised the goat-faced Daksha (ajavadana daksha shikSham). In keeping with the martial nature of the deity, this song has a brisk gait.

shrI dakshiNAmUrtE is one of Dikshitar’s greatest creations. Set in the majestic shankarAbharaNam, it portrays Shiva as the divine preceptor, ever immersed in meditation at the foot of the sacred banyan tree. Sages such as Sanaka flock to Him for realisation and in silence He conveys His message. As in keeping with a deeply contemplative deity, the song is mostly set in the lower octave and the lower set of notes in the middle octave. It follows a sedate gait and is set in the large cycle of jhampa tALa so that even the rhythm is slow.

Muttuswami Dikshitar’s favourite shrine was Tiruvarur. Here he composed some of his greatest songs including the Kamalamba Navavarana kritis. Shiva here is manifest as several lingas and central to the shrine is the sanctum of Valmikinatha who metamorphosed from an ant-hill. Dikshitar composed his shrI valmIkalingam (kAmbOji). The song describes the legend behind the temple. Vishnu’s arrogance had to be quelled and this was symbolically done by Brahma causing a divine bow to appear at the end of a sacrifice. The Gods, led by Shiva became ants and wore away the string of the bow which immediately released the arrow in it. This in turn took away Vishnu’s pride and He lapsed into yOga nidra with Shiva on His chest. The rise and fall of Vishnu’s chest as He breathed caused Shiva to dance in joy and this is termed AjapA naTanam. The caraNam of the song has this legend in full. Each of the Shiva lingas at Tiruvaru have their own consorts and Valmikalinga’s consort is Somakulambika. The song says the Lord is the bee that hovers around the lotus of Somakulambika (sOmakulAmbikAmbOja madhukaram). It also houses the raga mudra.

At Tiruvarur, the processional deity is known as Tyagaraja and He is also known as Veethi Vitanka. On Tyagaraja, Dikshitar composed eleven songs in all, of which eight are in the eight forms of address in Sanskrit and are known as the vibhakti kritis. Outside of this set are four other songs, of which one is tyAgarAja yOga vaibhavam in raga Ananda bhairavi. It is well-known for its yatis or cadences in the pallavi and the caraNam. In the pallavi the line tyAgarAja yOga vaibhavam is sequentially repeated each time with one syllable less. It is pregnant with meaning even when just the last syllable is sung. Similar is the case with the caraNam where the last line builds up from the one syllable “sham” to the full line shivashaktAdi sakala tatva svarUpa prakAsham.

Perhaps the most famous iconographic representation of Shiva is Nataraja. While Dikshitar’s Ananda naTana prakAsham in raga kEdAra is perhaps the best known kriti on this form, his cidambara natarAja mUrtim in raga tanukIrti is a rare piece. Composed at Chidambaram, it states Dikshitar’s creed of monism in the opening line itself where he meditates on Shiva who is formless (atanukIrtim). The word also incorporates the raga mudra in it.

A not so well-known depiction of Shiva is as bhikShATana or the divine mendicant who set out to seduce the wives of the arrogant sages of Darukavana. This incident is commemorated at a place called Vazhuvur, also known for another iconographic representation of Shiva – as gajasamhAramUrti. The song mAra kOTi kOTi describes Shiva as bhikShATana and is set in raga Arabhi.

This was written as a sleeve note for a CD released by Charsur. There are of course plenty more song on Shiva by Dikshitar

A new approach to heritage conservation

In what may be the first of its kind, the State Government has decided to rope in a conservation architect to advise on the restoration of the fire-ravaged Khalsa Mahal at Chepauk Palace. This is perhaps an indication that the Government has come to accept that its conventional (read PWD) methods will not work in heritage conservation. If that is so, it is indeed a welcome development.

Initiating the process recently, the Government has invited expressions of interest from conservation architects. The selected professional will have to work on a conceptual plan, architectural and structural designs, and prepare detailed estimates. Tenders will then be floated for the actual execution and the architect will be closely involved in the final work. It is learnt that the Government intends to closely watch this project as a pilot and this may lead the way for future conservation efforts as well.

This is a marked departure from earlier practice. Till now, all conservation projects by the Government have more or less been worked on the same basis as new constructions. The same procedures and rates apply. With the PWD not having any conservation experts on its roles, work on restoration of Government-owned heritage buildings has been shoddy, at best. That these are very hardy and robust structures that manage to survive despite such treatment is another matter altogether. The strict adherence to Government rates for heritage restoration is also an impossibility. Most often, the true nature and extent of damage reveals itself only after work has actually begun. This calls for a flexibility in cost estimates which is not permissible at present.

Chepauk Palace, which is arguably the first example of Indo-Saracenic style of architecture, was ravaged by a fire in early January this year. Its subsequent story is in itself a tale of how heritage restoration is gradually acquiring centre-stage. After an initial and hasty announcement that the building was beyond redemption and would be demolished, better sense prevailed. A team of three experts was put together by the Government. Though the composition of the team was a subject of controversy, it did submit a report that recommended conservation and restoration. The exact nature of the restoration is, however, rather nebulously given in the report and it remains to be seen as to how exactly this will pan out on the ground. Much will depend on the conservation architect selected and what weight his/her opinion will carry.

If this project is successful, Chepauk Palace can claim yet another first to its credit. It will be the first fire-ravaged heritage building in the State to be professionally restored. Moore Market, Gandhi Illam and Spencers’ are all examples of buildings that were gutted but what could have been conserved had there been a vision and a will. Perhaps Chepauk Palace will show the way, as it did by way of architecture in the erstwhile British empire for almost two centuries.

One last thought, though. In report about these government plans, the word ‘rebuilt’ has been used several times. We hope/restoration is what is planned and not pulling it all down and building a replica – which is what ‘rebuilding’ implies.

Thoughts on Wind Day

Today is Wind Energy day, according to the newspapers. The Economic Times has a full cover on it. Just shows how things have changed. A few years ago, wind was never mentioned in genteel company. It was almost entirely associated with the digestive tract and when it had to be expressed, you always hoped that it would be silent, and not deadly.

In Calcutta (though I don’t know how it is in Kolkata), wind, or should I say ouind, was a perpetual issue. You never asked a resident of the second greatest city of the empire as to how he or she was. In any other metro it would have been a brisk “I am fine.” But in Cal it was always a shake of the head and the inevitable retort “shorirta ektu bhalo noi” which meant health is not too good. And 90% of the time it had something to do with ouind. The Hooghly water is supposed to play havoc on digestion. Just as your knees always ached in Bangalore, your stomach invariably hurt in Calcutta. It was all the doing of the ouind. And bere b bindy!

Come to think of it, it could have been the food ingested as well. Bongs were obsessed with alu and chana dal, two windy substances though to look at them you would not believe that, one so bulbous and the other squat and yellow (ugh! What a comparison).

The average Tambrahm is also obsessed with wind. Though he calls it vayu. Every good South Indian Brahmin home will have its Hajmola at a place of importance from where it can be accessed easily. I think it is because the Tambrahm is supposed to eschew as opposed to chew garlic. That offending additive in Tambrahm view is said to give rise to base instincts. Now what could be baser than bind, I mean ouind, no, wind? But Tambrahms, going by past history, managed quite well on the base even without garlic. The imagination boggles at what they could have done with a dash of garlic.

It was left to the Punjabi to celebrate wind. They were open about it and made jokes on the matter even at their own expense. And releasing the breezes so to speak came naturally to them. In College in Delhi, my Punjabi friends were authorities on the subject and could keep us entertained with their in-depth analysis for hours on end.

I don’t know if ET realised it, but some if its headlines today were hilarious looked at from other angles. “Wind energy eases TN crisis” (wonder what blocked TN’s passage), “TNEB gets unseasonal windfall” (let me assure you, wind is perpetual, ask the Bongs), “IWTMA rings in Global Wind Day” and “India: the next wind super power” (I knew that, our politicians are gas bags anyway). There was also a classical music concert titled, believe it or not, Vayu Vandhanam (homage to Vayu). I thought it was sponsored by Hajmola but apparently not, for the IWTMA managed under its own.. er.. steam. The title sounded like some Ayurvedic treatment for flatulence.

Some of the speeches made on the occasion were also reported. One speaker said that “the answer lay in blowing in the wind”, than which I think there can be no worse torture. Another man said we need to use wind energy in our everyday lives.” Is there no end to recycling? A third speaker said “we need to improve our wind energy evacuation process.” He never said a truer word.

Garbage collection goes awry, again

Can a city that generates 4600 tonnes of solid waste each day afford to exist without proper conservancy facilities even for a minute? Apparently yes, if you look at what is happening in our city. Due to various reasons, garbage is once again rapidly accumulating on the streets, in a replay of what happened a few months ago. At a time when cities of international standards are boasting of scientific waste disposal techniques, we are unable to even perfect our waste collection system. This reflects very poorly on Chennai’s civic administration.

The city’s garbage collection job is divided between the Corporation’s own staff in seven zones and a private agency – Ramky Enviro Engineers – in the remaining three, these being Kodambakkam, Teynampet and Adyar. The problems with the Corporation’s direct collection are the usual ones that face any Governmental operations – lackadaisical and excess staff (much of it on leave), outmoded vehicles and indiscipline. The private operator, who began garbage collection in January this year, has problems of low staff strength and a very poor performance record especially in night conservancy. With around 88 sq km in its ambit, it is learnt that it faces a shortage of over 500 workers. What is worth pointing out is that the Corporation has staff in excess and could well contract them out to the private agency. But such out-of-the box thinking is yet to happen.

To add to the city’s woes, Ramky Enviro’s compactor drivers went on strike demanding a 50 per cent hike in salary. This further impacted severely garbage clearance in the three privatised zones which by themselves account for 1600 tonnes of garbage a day. The Corporation is, it is learnt, mulling over punitive action against the private agency, rather on the lines of what it did to the previous contractor, Neel Metal Fanalca, whose performance was also abysmal. The fact that two contractors out of three – the first, Onyx, being by far the best – have proved failures speaks volumes about the kind of due diligence that is performed by the Corporation on those who bid for its tenders. In fact, the Mayor has gone on record last week to the effect that Ramky was selected because it was the lowest bidder. If that is to be the sole criterion, no wonder we repeatedly end up with poor performers.

In the meanwhile, the city’s civic body continues to dither on two other crucial aspects – waste segregation at source and waste disposal.

The former has remained a non-starter and all garbage is now indiscriminately mixed and sent to landfills in areas such as Kodungayur and Perungudi. The latter, incidentally, abuts the Pallikaranai Marsh which is a reserved and protected natural habitat. Both landfills are now encircled by residential areas that are exposed to unscientific methods of disposal, including burning, which releases toxic gases.

At a time when the city is literally sinking under the weight of its garbage, a senior team from the Corporation has set off to Shanghai to study that city’s waste disposal techniques. The inappropriateness of the timing apart, it is questionable as to whether Shanghai is the best example given that it has a vast hinterland for setting up waste disposal facilities, which Chennai does not have. A city such as Tokyo with a high population density would have been more relevant to Chennai.

All said and done, we are nowhere near a solution. How does this tally with Singara Chennai and other such grand visions?

To Mahabalipuram, 91 years ago

Lt. Col. Herbert Andrews Newell of the Indian Army was an indefatigable traveller. Between 1905 and 1921, when he was in India, he covered almost the entire country, doing several of the journeys in his trusted car – a 1913 Sunbeam, 12-16 hp. He wrote detailed accounts of his wanderings for the leading magazines of the time. In 1921, a compilation of some these was published as a book – Topee and Turban, or Here and There in India. It includes an interesting account of a journey from Madras to Mahabalipuram.

Newell sets off at 7.30 am due south on Mount Road and notes that it was a fine avenue of banyan, tamarind and the “sausage tree, an alien from Madagascar.” Much of the western side of Mount Road he notes comprised paddy fields submerged under water with the Long Tank (present day T Nagar) mirroring the palm trees on its banks. He crosses the still surviving Teachers College at Saidapet which was in his time “gleaming white in the morning sunshine.” From there it was on to the Marmalong (now the much-enlarged Maraimalai Adigal) Bridge which in his time had yellow pillars, each mounted by a white cross indicating that “nearby was holy ground.” The Adyar’s left bank was a “wonderful display of lingerie and other garments” for this was where the dhobis washed clothes.

Guindy apparently then had a statue of King George V for he makes a sharp turn to the right and drives on via the Dalrymple memorial to Pallavaram which was but a “low ridge of sharply pointed hills.” To the left a vast expanse of water and in front, several guinea fowls that scattered on seeing his car. Chromepet, where he stopped for water, was a small hamlet of “palm thatched huts, cactus and aloes” with just the Chrome Leather Factory on the right. Far away a lonely hill catches his eye. This is clearly Tiruneermalai above which, then as now, rose the spire and flagstaff of the temple.

Tambaram was nothing more than a “little railway station” surrounded by tree-clad hills and everywhere the “plain sparked with the play of sunbeams upon water.” Palm trees, paddy fields and flowering trees line the route. Singaperumalkoil is where he halts to cool the engine and refill his radiator. The temple according to him was screened by high outer walls and between palms and quiet houses towered the temple’s processional car.

At 9.20 he reaches Chingleput. After breakfast at the Spencer’s refreshment room, he resumes his journey at 11.00 am. An hour later he has crossed Tirukkazhugukunram and Sadras. Somewhere near the Palar river, the road is so bad that he leaves his car and proceeds on foot. He crosses the river, then full of water, by boat. Palar joins the Buckingham Canal and through it he reaches Mamallapuram. It takes him 5 hours in all. Today we do it in half the time but with none of the scenic beauty he mentions.

Short and Snappy dated 16th June 2012

Giga-sized garbage bins

You couldn’t have missed them. The Man from Madras Musings certainly did not. They have come up all over the city. MMM alludes to the blue-coloured corrugated sheet containers, each the size of a railway goods wagon, that have been placed at strategic street corners. These, it appears, are the latest gifts of the city’s worshipful fathers to their, er, children.

Apparently, this is an idea that has emanated from the very granddad of them all. Having reasoned that the citizens are forever increasing their garbage outputs and the collection agency is forever minimising its conservancy staff, he has, MMM learns, declared that these mega- or giga-sized bins are the only option. They are large and roomy enough to keep the garbage of a week and more. This way, he probably decided, garbage will not flow on to the street, thereby making the roads exactly like Singapore. The new bins occupy half the street anyway.

But there is always a slip between the muck and the tip, as the expression goes.

What our worshipfuls have not reckoned with are certain practical problems.

Firstly, as MMM notices, the bins have six-foot walls. This is ostensibly to prevent cattle and dogs from foraging in the garbage. But with the height of the average Chennaiite being less than six feet, it would take a basketball player to be able to tip garbage into these bins. Of course, given our population, we could always stand one on the other and manage. And those who live in nearby high-rises can simply fling their rubbish into them.

Of course, to be fair to this Worship, he has declared that this bin is not the day-to-day bin. Those are the small ones on wheels, which are forever being shunted around. The idea was that local conservancy staff would empty the wheeled bins twice a day into the meg-gig bin and then the clearance truck would call once a week to take away the stuff in the meg-gig.

Here again, the idea has sprung a leak and having skidded on a few random banana peels, come a purler. The local conservancy man/woman is frequently AWOL and the bin-on-wheels is either missing or lying on its side, the latter act being done by the cattle which, MMM hardly needs to remind you, are officially banned in the city. As a consequence, the citizenry has taken to the big meg-gig bin.

There are, however, two major deterrents to using the big bin. The first is, of course, its height. The second is that it is never cleared and so the stink from it is awful. Even cows and dogs avoid it, so MMM is told. As a consequence, those who need to empty garbage do so all around the big bins. Result? The garbage tip just gets bigger. The roads get narrower and some are frankly out of bounds for those with sensitive stomachs.

Those who interest themselves in garbage are crying foul. But the erection of the mega bins is progressing regardless. Most probably, a tender, that irreversible Government juggernaut, must have been floated and, irrespective of their impracticality, the bins must be put up. Strange are the ways of the city. But, then, Daddy knows best.

The great leveller

‘Tis the season of college admissions. Parents go around with haggard faces and the air is full of words such as counselling, capitation fees and certification, all terms fairly alien to The Man from Madras Musings. But having willy-nilly been sucked into the process, he has been able to observe that if at all anything does away with class distinctions in our society it is the process of admitting children into higher education. Of course, as MMM well knows, school admissions are also a similar process. The only difference is that schools are divided into high society and others, but in colleges the same distinction is not entirely applicable.

What makes colleges greater levellers are the way in which the admission process is conducted. Those on the technical side invite parents and children to entrance exams conducted in out-of-the way spots such as Nesapakkam, Kelambakkam and other pakkams of which most parents have only vaguely heard, the only pak they being familiar with being Pakistan. Carpools are hastily put together, and those driving around in BMWs happily mix with the more common Maruti 800 and even (horror of horrors!) the tourist taxi Indica.

Then comes the actual task of trying to find out where and how to reach these locations.

MMM was on one such journey to Nesapakkam and all he can say is that it was fraught with adventure. After a certain distance, signboards completely ceased to exist and it was a case of the visually challenged leading the visually challenged. Every corner shop was stopped at and enquired from and some became so adept at it that they shouted out instructions even before vehicles stopped to enquire.

It is rather a strange situation that the so-called new areas of the city boast of no civic infrastructure whatsoever, and that includes roads, signboards and any kind of pavement. The only signboards that did exist were those put up by property dealers who promise all kinds of dream homes and villas in the vicinity. And the number of constructions in progress indicated that MMM was in a minority in considering that, like St Helena in the eyes of Napoleon, the place was made of the Devil’s droppings as He flew over the earth.

But, to get back to the journey. Nesapakkam had never seen so many vehicles in its entire existence. The streets, which were meant to be totally pedestrian, gave up the ghost after the first few cars and to MMM it appeared that the only way to get out of the place, if he got into it, was to do the entire distance in reverse gear. But happily there were more enterprising souls and a couple of zigs, a few zags and the chanting of the national mantra, ‘Adjust Please’, ensured that two-way traffic was established, though not without the occasional snarl.

MMM is now NNN – Never Near Nesapakkam

How Chennai got a Port – 1

The Chennai Harbour extends along the entire eastern side of First Line Beach (Rajaji Salai). If you had been visiting this city in the early 1800s, you would have scoffed at the idea that Madras could ever have a decent port. The surf was notorious and so was a strong current and the old ships could never approach land. All ships stopped two miles in the sea at a place called Madras Roads. Catamarans rowed up to them and passengers and goods were offloaded from the ships onto the rafts, which then brought them to the shore. The surf was so rough and the boatmen so rapacious in their greed that many passengers preferred to wade ashore. In the chaos of being brought to land on primitive boats, goods would invariably be lost. It was said that 90% of the merchandise brought from England to India perished in the last two miles.
The idea of a proper port for Madras began with Warren Hastings in 1769 when he was member of the Fort St George Council and the Committee of Works. A plan for a harbour was sent down from London and a pier based on sunken caissons with piles was recommended for Madras. But with Hastings leaving for Calcutta as Governor-General, the plan was pigeon-holed.
In 1798, Captain Lennon of the Madras Engineers submitted a memorandum of fifty pages in which he suggested not only a pier but also a closed harbour. The Board in Madras passed on the proposal to the Directors in England and nothing was heard again of the idea.
The Port scheme gained a major source of support with the establishment of the Madras Chamber of Commerce in 1836. The merchants of the city were convinced that if it was to transform from being Kipiling’s “tired withered beldame”, Madras needed a proper harbour and therefore began championing the cause. The Chamber, which had most of its members on First Line Beach, roped in the Madras Trades Association, which comprised the retail giants of Mount Road. In 1857, a Committee in which the Chamber was represented submitted to the East India Company a report that stated “that an iron screw pile pier was not only feasible but simple of construction and was the most suitable structure for spanning the Madras surf”. The Government that replaced the Company post Mutiny accepted this proposal which was estimated to cost Rs 95,000. A year later this was revised to Rs 103,000 and on 17th September 1859, the first pile was screwed down by Sir Charles Trevelyan, the then Governor, assisted by the Commander-in-Chief and Henry Nelson, Chairman of the Chamber. Progress was slow for the vessels that brought in the piles from England met with repeated disasters. By 1861, the rather flimsy structure of 1000 feet length and 40 feet width, with four lines of tramway and fixed and moveable cranes was ready. But with the Government refusing to sanction a warehouse, the masula boats were still needed to ply between vessel and pier and the boatmen preferred offloading the goods on to the beach.
In 1868, a storm damaged the pier. Then in 1872 came a worse cyclone when no less than ten vessels, 9 native barques, 3 native brigs, 1 native schooner, 6 native dhonies and 1 native sloop were wrecked and 19 people lost their lives. Two country vessels drifted on to the pier, caused a breach and passed right through the structure, north to south. The pier was closed for 18 months.
Repeated failures in the construction of a suitable pier and harbour did not deter the Chamber. Writing letters on the subject became a matter of habit. A powerful argument was that with the railways converging on Madras, precious little use could be made of them by way of cargo if the city did not have a suitable harbour. In 1872, the Suez Canal was opened and as related earlier, this revolutionised the maritime trade. The bulk of the trade of Madras could now be handled by steamers, which did not stand the same kind of risks from cyclones as the old ships. The Port idea gained steam once more and in 1873 therefore, the Government sent out William Parkes, who had supervised the construction of the Karachi Harbour.
Parkes’ proposal envisaged the running out of two piers into the sea, 1200 yards from the shore or into 7 fathoms of water. These two were to be joined on the eastern front by another pier or breakwater running parallel to the coast. The last would have an eastern entrance of around 480 ft width. The space enclosed within the piers would be 170 acres which was sufficient to provide anchorage for 17 large ships or steamers, besides a number of native craft. The water inside the enclosure would be free of surf and therefore the craft could anchor almost close to the shore. The report concluded with an estimate, which came to Rs 565,000, an expenditure, which it felt, was justifiable given the growing trade of Madras Port. Following this, the Government asked the Madras Chamber to estimate the probable income derivable from the trade of the Port in the event of the construction of the Harbour being sanctioned.
Amidst fears that the cost of the Port would be passed on to the great shipping lines such as P&O, thereby making them move over to Colombo or Calcutta, the Chamber began work on its report. By then, several Chamber members were local agents for international shipping lines. These members no doubt played a key role in allaying the fears of their shipping principals. Apart from the older established ones, a new entrant was Gordon Woodroffe, which was established in 1868 and handled the local business of the Clan, the Hansa and the Well lines. Its magnificent headquarters can be seen even now on First Line Beach. The project was sanctioned in March 1875, thanks in large measure to Governor Lord Hobart who was unflinching in his follow-up. The Prince of Wales, later King Edward VII, laid the foundation stone and construction began.
Work progressed steadily through 1876 and 1877 the raging famine notwithstanding. The surf posed as many hurdles as possible when it came to building the piers but this was overcome by tipping heavy granite boulders into the sea and then setting the concrete blocks on them. By 1880, a railway line was laid along the coast linking the north and south piers and within the next year, cranes, machinery, engines and workshops were in place. Then, in 1881, Nature came back to claim what was her own. A severe cyclone blew over the city on 12th November and the eastern pier that was to protect the harbour was severely damaged, exposing the enclosed area to the full force of the sea. Experts were called in once again and for 3 ½ years, work was stopped. The Chamber was of the view that the eastern entrance was the culprit and sent in its comments to the Secretary of State. In 1885, money was sanctioned for the restoration and work began once again. Rs 80 lakhs had been spent thus far.
With the project finally taking some shape, the Government on 1st January 1886, passed the Madras Harbour Act as per which the properties and liabilities of the harbour were transferred from the Government to a Board of Trustees. In the meanwhile, work on the Harbour with its eastern entrance progressed and was completed by end 1895. There were new problems – namely the rapid silting up of the eastern entrance and the sea continuing to pose challenges all of which required a new messiah in the shape of Mr FJE Spring of whose doings, more will be told anon.

This article appeared in XS Real’s blog – http://xsreal.com/blog/?p=196

What about the President’s wife?

The more I see this brouhaha about the Presidential election, the more I wonder if we have all got the wrong end of the stick. Of course, as aam aadmi we will always have the wrong end, but that, like the wrong end, is neither here nor there.

I mean, just because they elected someone like APJ Abdul Kalam once, does it mean we are going to be favoured with such a decision each time? But to judge by the number of sms and emails campaigning for him, you would not be mistaken in imagining that this was an election by universal adult franchise. None of these campaigners appears to be aware that Presidents are elected by an electoral college with some fairly complicated mathematics involved and unless one party dominates Centre and a majority of the States, a straightforward election is well-nigh impossible. Every political party will try to get maximum benefits for itself and that is evident in the way in which even the poriborton-prone are coming to negotiate with the capitalist Congress.

Anyway, what everyone is overlooking is that the President must be a man with a wife who can hold her own in official functions and be the perfect hostess. Rashtrapati Bhavan is after all symbolic of all that was ceremonial and grand in India. I use ‘was’ because we are rapidly becoming a functional society and when not that we are tacky in the extreme. This place however, still retains its traditions and though Gandhi wanted it to become a hospital, we neatly managed to save it when he was not looking. And so we need a hostess.

During the Presidential election when Giani Zail Singh was contesting, I remember Khushwant Singh writing an article in which he said we need First Ladies who can propose a toast without belching and not signify the end of dinner by breaking wind. I am being sexist here and assuming that the President will be a man. And that he will have a wife. Given that most world leaders are men, and they have an alarming tendency to come on state visits with consorts, don’t we need someone who can entertain the latter? I don’t know what the present incumbent did. I mean it must have been interesting to meet with Carla Bruni but what did he speak to her? And what notes did he exchange with Michelle Obama? Far better if we did have a First Lady as opposed to a First Gent. In England, this has long been the custom as far as Mayors are concerned. If the town/village mayor is a female, she has to select a female as mayoress. The relationship is of course strictly official.

Each of our Presidents handled this their own way. Rajaji as last Governor General did not have anyone and managed by simply locking up all the state rooms and not entertaining at all. Rajendra Prasad had a secretary Mrs Gnyanvati Darbar who took care of most matters as his wife was essentially a domestic person. I don’t know how Radhakrishnan handled it but then he was a larger than life personality and a bit of a superman anyway. VV Giri had a powerful presence in his wife Saraswathi. I am not so sure of what Begum Zakir Hussain did but the other Begum – Abida Ahmed, wife of Fakruddin Ali Ahmed was an impressive personality, which in many ways he was not. Zailji made his daughter the official hostess. Others got their wives to take care of things, aided by an army of servant of course. Kalam dispensed with a hostess and I am told managed only too well. But then not everyone is Kalam.

I am assuming that we will not have a First Gent in Mr Meira Kumar. So here is to the next First Lady I say – Mrs Sangma or Mrs Pranab Mukherjee or Mrs Gopalkrishna Gandhi. May you bring glamour to our Rashtrapati Bhavan. And can you convince your spouse to ride in state in the horse drawn carriage once more? If the Queen of England can do it, so can he.

The site of Lakshmikantham’s murder

It is evening and there is not a soul in sight. I am in Vepery, walking through Maddox Street. I glance at quaintly-named Bread Godown Street and enter General Collins Road. All at once there is a hush and the sounds of traffic and daily life cease.

General Collins Road is watched over by a series of high compound walls. I am now at its notorious double bend, a spot from where I cannot see what is lurking on either side. A perfect spot for a murder. And that is probably why on 8th November 1944, CN Lakshmikantham, muckraker and blackmailer who ran a yellow journal, was stabbed right here.

High society detested him for he wrote of their shenanigans if not placated with money. But Nemesis was nigh. In the words of VC Gopalaratnam in his A Century Completed, A history of the Madras High Court, (1862-1962), Vadivelu, a workman in the office of a local newspaper, Nagalingam and others are said to “have deployed themselves along the General Collins Road till it joined Purasawalkam High Road. At that junction, accused 8, a policeman in service, was stationed to ward off the traffic entering General Collins Road. About 9 o’clock, Lakshmikantham left his lawyer’s house, getting into a rickshaw drawn by Gopal, and proceeded along General Collins Road till he reached the sudden double turn where there was a measure of privacy.”

Vadivelu and Nagalingam “who were running along with the rickshaw suddenly attacked it, drove away the rickshaw man which tilted the rickshaw backwards exposing Lakshmikantham to attack. Both the accused stabbed him with bichuvas in the lower abdomen…”

Lakshmikantham died the next day at the General Hospital at 5.00 am.

The first reaction in high society was one of relief. The lawyer and diarist ND Varadachariar summed it up in his entry for November 10th- “CN Lakshmikantham, the freak editor of Cinema Thoothu and Indunesan, dies of wounds inflicted yesterday. He was a coarse and elemental force, stirring up the cesspools of society. “

Then came sensation. Diary entry for 28th November- “MK Thyagaraja Bhagavatar is arrested last night in connection with the murder. NS Krishnan is said to be ‘wanted’.”

He too was arrested subsequently. What followed has been well documented by historian Randor Guy and Bhagavatar’s biographer, Suresh Balakrishnan. The sensational trial with matinee idols as accused ended with sentences of life imprisonment. An appeal followed which upheld the sentence. The Privy Council in London however, remanded the case to the High Court for a fresh appellate hearing. At the end of it in 1947, the accused walked away free men though life was never to be the same for any of them.

And so who plotted Lakshmikantham’s murder? It remains unresolved.

The whodunit became the stuff of legend and song. But standing at the double bend on General Collins Road, the first instinct is to hurry home. If there ever was a creepy spot in Chennai, it is this.

This article appeared in The Hindu today – http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/chennai/article3516601.ece