History of Chennai

[murlee]

A SLICE OF ARMENIA
Dr S Suresh walks down the hallowed corridors of the Armenian Church and gives us a glimpse of its history and architecture…

Chennai has the rare distinction of being one of the few Asian cities that had a sizeable population of Jews and Armenians a few centuries ago. Indeed, the Armenians and the Jews were among the earliest foreign traders to settle in this city. They mostly lived in and around George Town. The Armenians were known for their wisdom and sincerity. Many of them worked, along with the British, in the various government offices in the city. The British were so impressed by the efficiency of the Armenians that they gifted large tracts of land to the community and even built a timber church for them near Fort St George.

The Armenians designed and built a few buildings for use by the British population of this city. One of the largest and most important amongst these buildings is the Clive House, also known as Admiralty House, built within Fort St George in the early eighteenth century by an affluent Armenian merchant named Nazar Jacob Jan. Presently, the Armenian church in George Town is, however, the sole visible testimony of the presence of the Armenians in this city.

The Armenian church, also known as the Armenian Church of Virgin Mary, is located on Armenian Street, not too far from the NSC Bose Road and the Law College and the High Court. The church was built in 1772 but according to some locals, it was originally built in 1712 and expanded and rebuilt in 1772 on the site of the old Armenian cemetery. The church was the result of the efforts of Aga Shawmier Sultan, a prominent Armenian trader. He gifted his ancestral land for the erection of this church.

Unlike many other churches and other religious buildings in George Town and other parts of Chennai, the Armenian Church is built within a spacious courtyard enclosed by high walls. From the street, the courtyard is accessed through tall black wooden doors set within a large entrance on a platform. The secluded courtyard has several gravestones and a lovely garden and thus provides a striking contrast to the din and noise of the crowded streets in the neighbourhood. The church is mainly built of bricks and is plastered with lime. The exterior walls are profusely ornamented. The imposing bell tower is located to the south of the main church building. The bell tower houses some of the largest bells of the city. Art historians have described the church as a specimen of the famous Baroque style of architecture that was very popular in Europe, mainly Italy, in the seventeenth century.

In recent decades, there has been a marked decrease in the population of the Armenians in Chennai. Presently, only a few families belonging to this community reside in the city. Hence, the church is not extensively used. Sometimes, it is used by members of other Christian sects. Thus, the church is now more a heritage building than a religious monument. Although closely linked to the early history of the British rule in India and presently well-preserved by the owners, the church, unfortunately, does not attract many tourists.

http://epaper.timesofindia.com/Defau...&ViewMode=HTML

[ChennaiIndian]

http://www.thehindu.com/life-and-sty...?homepage=true



Tracking the history of the country's oldest race course

A large iron horseshoe welcomes visitors at the entrance of the Madras Race Club (MRC). Televisions hang from metal holders before many booths where bets are placed and names are staked. At the MRC, not much has changed and a layer of chalky dust remains on the scoreboard.

Even though the club was officially constituted in 1837, its origins go back to 1777, when 81 cawnies of land were granted by the government to conduct races. There is proof of this in a letter written by the then Collector of Chingleput dated June 22, 1825, mentioning the grant. The land was taken from the Adyar villages of Venkatapuram and Velacheri.

Racing became irregular and almost stopped soon after it had begun in the 1770s. This was a result of Hyder Ali, who came within striking distance of Madras. A few years later, 35 cawnies were added and two race courses came up — a smaller one to train horses and the other with a stand to watch the races.

The club functioned till 1875, when the Prince of Wales Edward VII visited Madras. Racing again went through a tough phase and finally in 1887, the Club was revived. A balance of 11 rupees, 13 annas and 12 paise was carried forward to a new club called Madras Race Club with 50 members.

“This is the oldest race course in the country and we completed 200 years recently,” says B.K. Amanullah Khan, secretary, Madras Race Club. “In those days, there were no electric trains and the race course used to be near St. Thomas Mount, much further down from where it is now.”

...

[ChennaiIndian]

http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/...?homepage=true



What looks like a giant football has been helping Chennaiites know what kind of weather to expect

You may mistake the giant football-like structure atop the Port Trust Centenary building on Rajaji Salai, opposite Fort St. George for a mascot. But, this structure plays a critical role in helping Chennaiites know the kind of weather to expect. The doppler weather radar of the Meteorological department completed a decade of service on Tuesday.

Located nearly 53-metre above sea level, the ‘radome' or the radar's dome weighing 18 tonnes, continuously scans the atmosphere within the radius of nearly 500 km and provides an overview of active weather systems.

This is the first radar to have been installed in the country facing the sea on one side and the city's landscape on the other. It is from the data captured by the radar that Chennai was warned of the cyclonic storms forming in the Bay of Bengal and the thunderstorms on the surface. It is from here that data on wind speed and wind direction is transmitted almost every 10 minutes, providing information that is vital for decisions on aircrafts' landing or take off.

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[ferrari_fan]

Booooooooooo!!!!

[kannan infratech]

Guys!

Pl post the news item on the Radar for airport operations at Thirisulam Hills.

It talks of the lower level state officials delaying the acceptance of fixing a Doppler radar at Thirisulam hills for airport operations. The Union Dept of Science & Tech has bought the radar a year back and is lying idle.

I really do not understand that the Kancheepuram Collector and the revenue officials did not have a proper record of the ownership of the slopes of the Thirisulam Hills.

Looks like they are deliberately delaying the issue. The files have been now shifted to the newly formed Alandur Revenue Divn and the guys there do not have a clue - what to do.

When we approached the DTCP & CMDA regarding this, they were blissfully unaware of this.

Chennai has been suffering mainly due to the lack of radars except the one at the Port Trust.

Lots of efforts have gone into procuring the Doppler Radars to be deployed along the coast so that the vertical development in TN is not affected.

Vazhai Pazhatha urichu Kaiyila koduthalum, Sappida Matteen nu solravangala enna panradhu ?

[vinodgopal]

Originally Posted by kannan infratech

Guys!

Pl post the news item on the Radar for airport operations at Thirisulam Hills.

It talks of the lower level state officials delaying the acceptance of fixing a Doppler radar at Thirisulam hills for airport operations. The Union Dept of Science & Tech has bought the radar a year back and is lying idle.

I really do not understand that the Kancheepuram Collector and the revenue officials did not have a proper record of the ownership of the slopes of the Thirisulam Hills.

Looks like they are deliberately delaying the issue. The files have been now shifted to the newly formed Alandur Revenue Divn and the guys there do not have a clue - what to do.

When we approached the DTCP & CMDA regarding this, they were blissfully unaware of this.

Chennai has been suffering mainly due to the lack of radars except the one at the Port Trust.

Lots of efforts have gone into procuring the Doppler Radars to be deployed along the coast so that the vertical development in TN is not affected.

Vazhai Pazhatha urichu Kaiyila koduthalum, Sappida Matteen nu solravangala enna panradhu ?

enna sir ivanga ellam tirundhavey maatangala? enna koduma Kannan sir ithu. Ethavuthu seinga sir.

[ChennaiIndian]

http://www.thehindu.com/arts/history...cle2935220.ece



In town recently was Dr. Gwynn Jenkins, a consultant in architectural heritage and cultural anthropology who is looking at the Madras-Penang connection for George Town World Heritage Inc., Penang. And I envy her the fact that George Town was pouring money into its much younger heritage, whereas our Fort St. George and Georgetown, leave alone the rest of the city's splendid heritage, languish because of lack of Government will. There is in this city even a lack of will on officialdom's part to answer any letter if it has anything to do with heritage!

Among the things Jenkins was searching for was the St. George's Cathedral, Madras, connection with St. George's Church in Penang which has been listed in 2007 as one of Malaysia's fifty National Treasures. Our Fort St. George should be listed as Modern India's First National Treasure, but we can't even get it protected, leave alone restored! Be that as it may, I was able to lead her to the Trust that is restoring St. George's Cathedral and she was able to gather much information from IIT-M Prof. Mathew's team on the construction of the Cathedral and note the similarities with the Penang church. St. George's , Penang, was built by Capt. Robert N. Smith of the Madras Engineers, had its drawings done by the same military engineer as our cathedral, Col. James Lillyman Caldwell, and had its original furniture organised and flat-packed to Penang by Major Thomas de Havilland who built the Madras church (1814-1816). In 1816, the church which was to become a cathedral was consecrated by the Rt. Rev. Thomas Middleton, Bishop of Calcutta. And it was the same Bishop who consecrated the Penang church in 1819 after work was started on it in 1816 and completed in 1818.

...

[Leo_r]

When the original Shivaji came to town ..

http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper...cle3271640.ece

[satchitananda]

We are so unaware of such a great heritage. Thanks to the writer who brought this to our attention.. (IN US) I have seen plaques on oak trees attended by none.. where it said a general who fought civil war, rested under this tree..

High time, the government should have a separate ministry dedicated to history.. The focus can be how to highlight it in conjunction with tourism, how to protect the artifacts in conjunction with ASI or SG sponsored version of ASI..

[TShyam]

When I chanced upon J.N. Bellin's 18th century map of Madras, I felt proud of my connection'

Long before I moved to Madras, its maps moved me. I had been here as a child, of course, dragged reluctantly from one relative's house to the next, my cheeks pinched by unknown aunties in between endless and unwelcome tumblers of Horlicks. But when I chanced upon J.N. Bellin's 18th century map of the city — or, more precisely, Fort St. George and its environs — at the stall of an antiquarian book dealer in Buenos Aires in 1995, and Herman Moll's 1726 street plan, I felt proud of my connection to those yellowing outlines of early urban life. I lived in New York at the time but was headed back home to Delhi. Sixteen years later, in September 2011, I finally made Madras my home.

A former colleague in Delhi warned me about what living in Chennai would involve. He had once dropped in on someone in the evening for a lengthy chat but the expected sundowner never came. After an hour, as he made to leave, his host said, “I say, let's have a small one.” My friend gratefully settled down again, only to see his host reappear with two small tumblers of ... Horlicks.

After five months here, I can testify that things have changed for the better since then. But truth be told, Chennai does not command the affection of newcomers in the same easy way that some other cities in India and abroad do. I knew Chennai would look nothing like the cartographic depictions and early photographs of Madras I had grown to love from afar. The wide empty spaces on those maps have been filled in, as they had to be, to keep pace with the city's growing population, but, as in other Indian cities, this has happened in a haphazard and unlovely way, with wilful neglect of its amazing architectural heritage.

Even if I make allowances for my enforced bachelorhood — my wife is waiting for leave from Delhi University, where she teaches — the demands of my new job have not allowed me to explore the city and claim it as my own. I have yet to walk on the beach. Or wander aimlessly through the streets of Triplicane or Egmore or Mylapore that seem, from a distance, to be filled with mystery and promise. In the entire Margazhi season, all I managed to fit in was a (brilliant) performance by Malavika Sarukkai. I find the traffic, especially the drive to and from the airport, atrocious, not to speak of the airport itself. But boarding a train from Egmore is a pleasure, as is stopping to browse for a book, walking in the Theosophical Society grounds or grabbing a quick roadside snack.

As I devote more time to exploring the city, I know I will feel more rooted and settled here. But in the meantime, here's a fairly arbitrary list of the ten things I like very much about Chennai.

1. Driving to work via the beach road in the morning, with the Bay of Bengal on one side and beautiful old buildings like the police headquarters, Presidency College and the University on the other.

2. Having a civilised snack of idlis or pongal at the airport, the perfect antidote to the frenetic drive to reach there.

3. The concept of “meals ready”, the quality of the coffee and the care my local coffee merchant takes to grind her beans down to the perfect consistency for my espresso machine, the varieties of bananas available in the market — a huge improvement over the standard yellow Cavendish that you get in Delhi and elsewhere in the world — and delicious Dindigul-style biryani and other non-vegetarian dishes, most of which I never ate before, let alone associated with “Tamil food.”

4. The smell of mallipu, or jasmine, on the streets and markets, in offices and everywhere.

5. The fact that villains are called “rowdies”, that they have their own argot and come with evocative names like “Punk” Kumar, “Boxer” Vadivel and “Military” Kumar, and that Chennai has Ladies' Detective Agencies who may not crack serious cases like Hollywood P.I.s but who help assure nervous parents that the “alliance” they have struck for their daughter is a safe one.

6. The great bookshops the city has such as Higginbothams and Oxford and the fact that young people in Chennai care enough about reading and learning and about the public institutions that sustain these that they would launch a movement to save the Anna Library from being needlessly relocated.

7. The ease with which friendships are made and people open up. Unlike Bombay, where money and status are important, and Delhi, where connections are flaunted, the Chennaiite seems more down to earth and welcoming.

8. The Government Museum, with its outstanding collection that can keep one occupied for hours, and the active art scene, typified by the number of talented city artists and by events like the recent Art Chennai.

9. The new Assembly complex opposite The Hindu. A marvellous, innovative example of public architecture, I was hoping the State government, which decided not to move the Secretariat there, would turn it into a cultural centre that would be the pride of India. Alas, that is not to be.

10. Spaces, the wonderful open air complex on Elliot's Beach Road where, one March evening, I heard the local poet Tishani Doshi recite her work and decided, finally, that Madras may have made way for Chennai, Horlicks may still be the malt of choice for many, but the city is definitely worth living in.

Siddharth Varadarajan is the editor of The Hindu.

http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/colu...cle3291458.ece

[vinodgopal]

i like the idea of cheek pinching unknown hot aunties i wish i get back to my childhood days. Aishwarya Rai and tabu might pinch my cheeks and maybe even kiss them.

jokes apart great article. Thanks for sharing.

[TShyam]

[TShyam]

On World Book Day, book lovers in the city talk about second-hand booksellers who have enriched their reading experience

Due to various reasons, many stretches in Chennai have lost their second-hand booksellers. For some bibliophiles, this loss is personal — over the years, they have developed bonds of friendship with these hawkers of knowledge.

Someone who has an enviable collection of British and American magazines as well as out-of-edition books after scouring the streets of Madras for decades, Vittal Rao has authored “Vazhvin Sila Unathangal” (December 2011, Narmadha Pathipagam), a work that stands out for its sensitive look at the secondhand booksellers of Madras.

“Most of these sellers were nameless people, but they defined localities. A hearing-impaired man — who was simply called ‘Umaiyan' because of this disability — was an integral part of Mount Road. He sold books on the pavement near the Bharat Insurance building,” recalls Vittal. Writer-illustrator Harry MacLure remembers Perambur Barracks Road — as it was many decades ago — by a seller of English comics and books in a quaint little shop opposite Bhuvaneshwari Theatre.

The sterling qualities these sellers displayed keep their memory alive. They were especially popular for their attitude towards money. “Everything you picked up at his shop came cheap,” says MacLure. Says Vittal: “Karim Bhai, who plied his trade near the Mount Road dharga, was a contented man — he sold on credit. When I was planning on giving him some money as charity in addition to the Rs. 20 I owed him, he passed away unexpectedly. It was 1964, and he had fallen to a virulent flu going around in Madras. Visiting his house with a friend, I gave his eldest son Rs. 100.”

Not just impeccable behaviour, but their knowledge of books endeared these booksellers to their customers. Most second-hand booksellers of that era were not well-read — some were almost illiterate — but they seemed to operate by a sixth sense and would conjure up the requested title.

Writer Ashok Mitran recalls: “Alwar was brilliant. His pavement shop on Luz Chruch Road (which has survived to this day) would have mountain heaps of books. Guided by intuition, he would wade into piles of books and ferret out exactly the one you wanted.”

Impressed with an abridged and illustrated edition of Charles Dickens' “Great Expectations”, Harry wanted to get a copy of the unabridged version. He showed the book to an uneducated seller at Moore Market. “Seven days later, I get a letter in Tamil from this man saying the unabridged version is ready,” says a still-surprised Harry.

Second-hand bookshops also had character, each being identified with specific categories of books and magazines. For old issues of Time magazine and Saturday Evening Post, Vittal went to a Naicker at the old Moore Market. And he relied on a Mudaliar at the same market for a steady supply of Collier's magazines. ‘Umaiyan' on Mount Road appeared to be consciously stocking classic and popular literary books from Britain. Says Vittal: “James Joyce or Somerset Maugham, he had them all!”

While many major roads had clusters of second-hand booksellers, Moore Market was unparalleled in its scale and range. “These bookshops were situated on a long corridor, facilitating easy access to them. English titles — most of them hardbound — accounted for 80 per cent of the books. The rest were made up by Tamil, Telugu, Sanskrit and other language books. French books would turn up often. Once, I found a very old Greek book.”
Preserving old books

Most of these books were however in a state of disintegration. To preserve them, booklovers often turned to binders. Vittal had a reliable and honest binder in Gopal, who worked for New Century Bookhouse. “He was exceptionally good at breathing new life into dog-eared, torn and disintegrating books. In 1989, he died of a massive stroke. Following his demise, my desire to go in for rare old books actually waned,” says Vittal.

Vittal is similarly shaken whenever he hears about the death of a second-hand bookseller he has known. Behind the books, he always saw a courteous, friendly human being struggling to make ends meet but still living with dignity and integrity.

MISSING PAGES OF THE BOOK STORY

Armenian Street is devoid of its cluster of second-hand pavement bookshops. Gandhi Irwin Road is no longer lined with these booksellers. Sellers of old books that plied their trade in other parts of the city have likewise disappeared.

Rajeshwari Victor, author of “My Life My Choice”, says, “These booksellers, once a part of the landscape, are conspicuous by their absence.”

“When you pass by places known for these book traders and don't find them any more, you just wonder where they have gone,” says writer-illustrator Harry MacLure. “It's nice to know that pavement book sellers of Pycrofts Road are still found there.”

As a result of the Corporation's drive to clear pavements for pedestrians, these booksellers have been accommodated in temporary facilities that are installed around the ‘New Moore Market' building in the Lily Pond Complex.

Says Rajeshwari: “Second-hand booksellers serve a definite purpose. Most books — especially novels — are bought for a single-reading, and people don't see a need to hold on to them forever. As a result, they may prefer to buy these books second-hand. It's better to have such book shops in you neighbourhood than having to make a trip to a centralised market every time.”

http://www.thehindu.com/arts/books/article3339566.ece

[TShyam]

A.G. Ram Singh at a felicitation ceremony in Madras in 1956. Photo: The Hindu Archives.

Madras's cricketing sardars

A couple of weeks ago, I was invited to address a group of office staff in their thirties and forties and, since the get-together was being held in the Madras Cricket Club, the topic suggested was ‘Early Madras Cricket'. It came as a bit of a shock that virtually no one knew anything about the A.G. Ram Singh family. Yet that family had been to Madras cricket what the Straceys (Miscellany, April 16th) had been to public service in India.

Of Amritsar Govind Singh Ram Singh it has been said, “(He) bore the burden of Madras Cricket on his shoulders as very few had done before and none after him. Centuries flowed from his bat while with his left-handed spinners he sent many a batsman to his doom.” Yet, this beturbaned and bearded cricketer, who would figure in any all-time Madras/Tamil Nadu XI, is a forgotten figure among so-called cricket fans.

It was not Madras, however, that produced him; it was the baghs of Amritsar, including Jallianwala Bagh, that did. It was there that as a boy he learnt his cricket watching the Tommies play. And what he learnt he improved on further by himself when he came to Madras with his father, Jwala Singh, an electrician, who worked with Spencer's for many years. In Madras, encouraged by T. Vasu Naidu, then by V.R. Lakshmi Ratan at the Rajah of Ramnad-backed Minerva Cricket Club, and eventually by the Sussex professional A.F. Wensley coaching Madras, Ram Singh honed his skills to a degree that Denis Compton and Lindsay Hassett, both of whom played against him, went overboard assessing him: the former compared him to Wilfred Rhodes, the latter thought if he had been in Australia he would have been in the running for an Australian Test berth. Certainly he was in the running for a place in the Indian team in the mid-1930s and was thought to be a sure bet for the team that toured England in 1946 after scoring over 3000 runs and taking 230 wickets in all games during the lead-up season. But he had no godfathers and, so, in 1946 turned to coaching and during his thirty years and more as a coach turned out scores of Ranji Trophy players and at least four Test cricketers: Salim Durrani, C.D.Gopinath and his sons Kripal and Milkha Singh. Ram Singh's youngest son, Satvinder Singh, was also of Test class, but a knee injury after a road accident affected his career. Two other sons, Kulwant and Satwant, like their three brothers played for the University of Madras. All that taken together is some record!

Kripal Singh, the eldest of Ram Singh's sons, was a right-hand batsman who scored a century on his Test debut against New Zealand in 1955. But thereafter he was in and out of the Indian team, playing his last Test in 1965. As his batting career waned he improved as an off-spin bowler. But it was as a batsman that he helped Madras win its first Ranji Trophy in 1954-55. His sons Swaran and Arjan both played for the State, the latter's greater promise cut short by injury.

If Kripal Singh was considered one of the finest right-hand batsmen produced by Madras, brother Milkha Singh had a similar rating as a left-hand batsman. But he, too, was in and out of the Test team, the heavy scoring he did in Ranji Trophy matches not being repeated in the few Tests he played in the 1960s. Was he blooded too young, many wonder; was barely18 when he made his Test debut.

One other member of the family had a brief first class career — and that was A.G.Harjinder Singh, a nephew of Ram Singh. While faring well in First Division club cricket as a left-hand batsman, he did not repeat that form at the Ranji Trophy level. But he, like his cousins and hundreds of other Madras cricketers over three generations, had benefitted from the cricketer described by V. Ramnarayan as “arguably the greatest cricketer never to have played for his country” and a coach who believed in no frills coaching and long hours at the nets — A.G.Ram Singh.

Will there be a cricketing family like this again in Madras, nay, India?

The Portuguese land-owner

When I first arrived in Madras to sink roots it was 1968 and rattling around in a large house I envied those further down Mowbray's Road who lived in cute little houses with a neat little garden space around each in what was one of the first ‘community' settlements coming up in the city. It was called de Monte Colony and was being established, I was told, by the Archdiocese of Mylapore. Today, the colony across from the Park Sheraton Hotel is deserted; its buildings derelicts and gardens overgrown, and the newspapers report stories of ghosts that thrive here. Whatever be the ghost stories, de Monte the merchant would have been for more concerned about the sorry state some of his properties have been allowed to fall into.

John de Monte — he was never knighted though many refer to him as Sir John de Monte — was a Portuguese from Pondicherry, which, it must be remembered, had close links with San Thomé after the French had in the 18th Century captured the latter. With trading opportunities in Pondicherry and San Thomé giving diminishing returns as British power waxed, de Monte moved to Madras and bought out a Frenchman, Latour, who was a partner of Arbuthnot's, then on its way to becoming the most successful business house in Madras. Arbuthnot, de Monte's became Arbuthnot's alone on de Monte's death in 1821.

Apart from the de Monte colony property, de Monte owned all the property embraced by Turnbull's Road, Chamier's Road and Greenway's Road down to the Adyar, property which now includes the Boat Club, Ben's Gardens, the Madras Club and what is called the Boat Club area. He also owned much property in Egmore, San Thomé (on which the Archbishop's palace came up), and Covelong. He had first lived in Egmore, then in the San Thomé property and finally in a mansion he had built in what became de Monte Colony.

The house in Covelong and what was built as a private chapel, the Church of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, were built for his wife Mary after she became mentally ill. Their son Christopher Bilderbeck de Monte, who was brought up by her parents in Germany, died there, just before he planned to return to India in 1816, the consequence of a duel, legend has it. Thus, left without heirs, de Monte willed the greater part of his property to what was then the San Thomé Diocese to give out on rent and use the proceeds for Church charities.

In his time, John de Monte was believed to be the richest man in Madras and also its leading philanthropist. His contribution to Church charities continues to this day.

*****

When the postman knocked…

* Charles Michie Smith was not a Reverend, says my correspondent who had provided me the information for my item on the Government Astronomer in Miscellany, April 9th. He had made an erroneous presumption, he tells me. He goes on to inform me that Michie Smith was, however, elected a Fellow of the Royal Society of Edinburgh for his considerable achievements in India and the numerous important papers he contributed to the Society. Among those achievements was published in 1899 the New Madras General Catalogue of 5303 stars, study of which had been done in Madras between 1862 and 1887 under the guidance of his predecessor, Norman Pogson. Michie Smith also published a record of meteors that were seen in Madras between 1861 and 1890. And at the total eclipse of the sun in 1898 he took several large-scale photographs with a 40-foot lens at Sahdol in Rewa State. The Royal Astronomic Society, U.K., described him as a “man of wide scientific knowledge with several interests outside astronomy”.

* Out of the blue came this photograph of the Cabinet (1962-63) of St. Thomas's Hall, one of the halls of residence of Madras Christian Collage. Paul Sabapathy (Miscellany, April 9) is seen in it as the Prime Minister. My correspondent also adds a note that Prakash Karat (1964-68), the General Secretary of the CPI(M) but in his time a resident of the Hall, was greatly influenced by the concepts of social justice and the radical and egalitarian ideas of the Warden of the Hall, Duncan Forrester, when their paths crossed in 1968.

http://www.thehindu.com/arts/history...cle3342342.ece

[TShyam]

S Muthiah, Mike Nithavrianakis, P.M. Belliappa, Paul Sellers and B.S. Raghavan at the launch of the book on Monday Photo: R. Ravindran

“History is an unforgiving mistress, for it records the good, the bad and the ugly,” said B.E. Bellippa, former president of the Association of British Scholars (ABS), while introducing the second volume of the trilogy on Madras, edited by the ‘Madras Man', S. Muthiah. ‘Madras (Chennai): A 400 year record of the first city of modern India (Services, education and the Economy)' covers topics ranging from medicare, municipal service, agriculture, public utilities and railways.

Around eight years in the making and covering 50 sectors, the three volumes together seek to provide a comprehensive history of Chennai that was Madras, substantiated by data, tables and maps. “We originally decided to document the history of the city until the year 2000, but as the project dragged on, we went up to 2009 in certain chapters,” said Mr. Muthiah.

While the first volume titled ‘The land, the people and their Governance', which was released in 2008 covered subjects such as geography, wildlife, demography, religion, archaeology, and the judiciary among other subjects, the third volume will lay focus on Tamil language and literature, art, music, archival records, libraries, zoos, sport and theatre among other sectors. Each article is around 15,000 to 20,000 words.

Speaking at the launch of the book, Mike Nithavrianakis, British Deputy High Commissioner in Southern India, said that the book is useful not just for students and research scholars, but also diplomats who want to get an insight into the politics, history, administration, arts and culture of the city.

The chapters have been written by both members of the ABS as well as non-members. “All the contributors in this book are experts in their respective fields, but not many knew about the history of their fields, and hence had to look at it from a new perspective,” said Mr. Muthiah.

On the prevalent approach to history as a subject, he said in schools, history, geography and other subjects are clubbed into one entity called social studies. “The focus is on mathematics and such subjects. Without the knowledge of the past, we cannot understand the future. I hope this book will trigger interest in students and research scholars.”

http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/...cle3371581.ece

[kongutamizhan]

The story of Ariya Gowda

http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/...cle3371576.ece



Ari Gowder was President of the Backward Classes League and leaned towards the Justice Party

The chances of anyone travelling down Ariya Gowda Road in West Mambalam, and stopping to wonder about the identity of the man who gave the thoroughfare its name, are slim. For when you are on Ariya Gowda Road, you are focused on getting out of the road alive, given its traffic.

He was not Ariya Gowda. He was HB Ari Gowder, a great visionary and leader of the Badaga community of the Nilgiris. And his life, as gleaned from various sources, including a 1935 Who's Who and the internet, makes for interesting reading.

Rao Bahadur Hubbathalai J Bellie Gowder, made his fortune in laying the tracks of the Nilgiri Mountain Railway, which was completed in 1908. His wealth made him a leading member of his community, and his clansmen came to him for advice on several issues. Bellie Gowder founded a free school in his native village, Hubbathalai, an institution that still functions. He passed away in 1935.

Bellie Gowder's son, Ari, was born in 1893. His father ensured that he was educated in the modern sense and he graduated from Madras Christian College. Though he was to consider himself a contractor and a planter, it was in politics and social uplift that Ari Gowder was to make a mark. In 1923, he became the first Badaga to be elected to the Madras Legislative Council of which he was a member until 1934. In the 1940s, he was elected to the Madras Legislative Assembly. When the Rajaji government introduced Prohibition in 1937, he led the challenge of enforcing it in the Nilgiris, of which area he was also the first non-official to become District Board President. Ari Gowder was also active in the Scouts Movement. Another contribution of his was the establishment of the Nilgiris Cooperative Marketing Society, which eliminated the stranglehold middlemen had over the simple mountain people. He was also a Director of the Badaga Land Mortgage Bank.

While the sympathies of most of his community lay with the Congress, Ari Gowder, given that he was President of the Backward Classes League, leaned more towards the Justice Party, which was active till the 1930s. That probably explains the road in Mambalam being named after him. Neighbouring Theyagaroya Nagar or T Nagar, developed in the 1920s when the Justice Party was in power and most of the roads, parks and streets there are named after its leaders. Legend also has it that a large chunk of land adjoining the Mambalam Railway Station was his, which he donated for developmental work. Like his father, Ari Gowder too received the title of Rao Bahadur from the British Government, in 1943.

In 1946, Ari Gowder was defeated in the Assembly elections. But in 1952 he contested successfully as an independent. He was to remain an independent for the rest of his career. He passed away in 1971.

How did Ari Gowder Road morph into Ariya Gowda Road? And should it not be just Ari Road?

[sridhar_n]

Thanks KT...I have fond memories of this road...this is the link road between Ashok Nagar and T Nagar...this road used to be quiet and clean between Postal Colony and Indian Bank with bylanes linking to Mambalam rly station...As observed in the article, this road has become a mess now...too much of traffic and further accentuated by unscruplous parking...wish it comes back to its original glory...

[satchitananda]

SOURCE:

Surprised? Never thought a protective wall could have existed around the old parts of the city? But we did have a wall, one which extended over much of the northern and western faces of 18 century Madras – present-day George Town.

Those were the days when the British Raj was on a not-so-sound footing, and everyone from the French to Hyder Ali was a threat. And so, it was decided in 1768 that Madras ought to be protected. The eastern face had the sea as a natural barrier, and so the remaining three faces were to have a wall.

Engaged to execute this wall was Paul Benfield. He was the only person to bid for the tender, a process that was probably a sham anyway. Benfield, who was then in the employ of the East India Company as Engineer of Madras, resigned to become a contractor. Benfield and his boss John Call, who was Chief Engineer, most probably drew up the specifications. Call added with some complacency that “when completed and mounted with cannon, and guarded with 2000 sepoys, no country enemy, even with heavy cannon will be able to force it, and I think a considerable resistance may be made against an European enemy…”

Benfield set about in right earnest and by October 1769, the work on the northern side was well advanced. It was decided that the western face would be funded by a tax for the wall. But there was considerable opposition from the residents of the city. A bolt from the blue was an Act of Parliament, which held that the Company's servants were liable for prosecution if they oppressed the people, and so the tax was withdrawn.

The western face was never fully completed but the road that ran alongside became Wall Tax (now VO Chidambaram Pillai) Road. In its full glory, the Madras wall ran for six kilometres and had 17 bastions. There were seven gates – Boatmen's Gate facing the sea, Pully Gate at the northern end of Thambu Chetty Street, Tiruvatore Gate near Stanley Hospital, Ennore Gate near Mint Street, Elephant Gate where Anna Pillai Street meets Wall Tax Road, Chucklers Gate at the intersection of Rasappa Chetty Street and Wall Tax Road, and Hospital Gate facing the General Hospital. Work was stopped in 1772, it being decreed that what was completed was sufficient protection.

By the 19 century, with peace, the wall was deemed unnecessary and most of it was demolished to facilitate expansion of the city. A portion of the northern wall on Ebrahim Sahib Street and Old Jail Road remained. In 1957, the Corporation converted the top of this wall into a park. Referred to as Madi Poonga or the elevated park, it is accessed by an archway and a flight of steps that culminates in a beautiful patch of green on the rampart. This, the name ‘Elephant Gate' and a narrow alley called North Wall Street serve as reminders of the wall that was.

[dkravind]

Originally Posted by satchitananda

SOURCE:

Surprised? Never thought a protective wall could have existed around the old parts of the city? But we did have a wall, one which extended over much of the northern and western faces of 18 century Madras – present-day George Town.

Those were the days when the British Raj was on a not-so-sound footing, and everyone from the French to Hyder Ali was a threat. And so, it was decided in 1768 that Madras ought to be protected. The eastern face had the sea as a natural barrier, and so the remaining three faces were to have a wall.

Engaged to execute this wall was Paul Benfield. He was the only person to bid for the tender, a process that was probably a sham anyway. Benfield, who was then in the employ of the East India Company as Engineer of Madras, resigned to become a contractor. Benfield and his boss John Call, who was Chief Engineer, most probably drew up the specifications. Call added with some complacency that “when completed and mounted with cannon, and guarded with 2000 sepoys, no country enemy, even with heavy cannon will be able to force it, and I think a considerable resistance may be made against an European enemy…”

Benfield set about in right earnest and by October 1769, the work on the northern side was well advanced. It was decided that the western face would be funded by a tax for the wall. But there was considerable opposition from the residents of the city. A bolt from the blue was an Act of Parliament, which held that the Company's servants were liable for prosecution if they oppressed the people, and so the tax was withdrawn.

The western face was never fully completed but the road that ran alongside became Wall Tax (now VO Chidambaram Pillai) Road. In its full glory, the Madras wall ran for six kilometres and had 17 bastions. There were seven gates – Boatmen's Gate facing the sea, Pully Gate at the northern end of Thambu Chetty Street, Tiruvatore Gate near Stanley Hospital, Ennore Gate near Mint Street, Elephant Gate where Anna Pillai Street meets Wall Tax Road, Chucklers Gate at the intersection of Rasappa Chetty Street and Wall Tax Road, and Hospital Gate facing the General Hospital. Work was stopped in 1772, it being decreed that what was completed was sufficient protection.

By the 19 century, with peace, the wall was deemed unnecessary and most of it was demolished to facilitate expansion of the city. A portion of the northern wall on Ebrahim Sahib Street and Old Jail Road remained. In 1957, the Corporation converted the top of this wall into a park. Referred to as Madi Poonga or the elevated park, it is accessed by an archway and a flight of steps that culminates in a beautiful patch of green on the rampart. This, the name ‘Elephant Gate' and a narrow alley called North Wall Street serve as reminders of the wall that was.

I wondered many a time why the name is "Elephant gate" and now it makes sense....

Thanks for posting

[vinodgopal]

instead of making such boring films where they show almost all Chennai boys to go behind huge thighed bumblimas girls with an annoying Tamil accent in busstops trying to "correct" them and that kind of repetitive themes which is not only boring but it makes us cringe at the poor taste of the cinema makers and audience, is better if they highlight all these rich heritage of Chennai in many films. Also it would be great if more films like Marina or Madrasapattinam are made.