Film News Anandan. File photo by K.V. Srinivasan / The Hindu
It could well be curtains for flawless archiving of South Indian cinema
In the past two decades my interactions with this unique personality were many. Every time I needed pictures for a story on cinema, all I had to do was call up ‘Film News’ Anandan. He would attend the call himself. “Sir, I need a few pictures. Can I come over this evening?” “Sure, just give me the details and they will be ready,” he would say. And I would find them in a cover, neatly labelled with the essential information. His only request was that I return them after use.
Every time I visited Anandan I was awestruck by his simplicity and self-effacing nature. In fact, he would even sound slightly diffident. Like the time when he hesitantly walked up to Sivaji Ganesan, who was sitting under a tree at the shooting spot of ‘Raja Rani,’ and requested him to pose for him. Anandan’s career in cinema began with that click! “Great man, he immediately obliged,” he would recall often. His passion for photography and love for his prized possession, a rolleiflex camera, may not be known to all.
Also few may be aware of his knowledge of Carnatic music. We were walking out after the press show of ‘Subramaniapuram,’ when he told me, “I enjoyed that song in Reetigowla. The new composer, James Vasanthan, has done a good job.” Even later, during our conversations Anandan would dwell on the music of films of Tyagaraja Bhagavathar and the kritis of Saint Tyagaraja, used in cinema.
Anandan never forgot kind gestures. M.G. Ramachandran, who enabled him to become the first PRO in cinema, was often in his thoughts. So was Jayalalithaa. She was instrumental in the State Government buying over Anandan’s archival collection. She had planned to make it into a permanent exhibition. “I can’t thank her enough,” he said. Yet I sensed both agony and ecstasy, when he told me in a choked voice that parting with his ‘treasure’ wasn’t easy. It was just a week after he had handed over his collection.
Film News Anandan File Photo by K.V. Srinivasan / The Hindu
Newspapers, cuttings from them, notepads and dairies of details on cinema were seen everywhere in his room always. “These are my years of hard work. This is not junk, this is my life. Nothing would upset me more than sitting in a neat room without these possessions around me,” he would smile with pride as he cleared some of the papers on the sofa for me to sit down.
The last time I met him was more than a year ago. He mentioned that the State Government had honoured him enough. So it was the Centre’s turn? He simply smiled. His meticulous chronicling will be an objet de vertu for generations of students of cinema. The diligence ought to be recognised, at least now.
When I entered Anandan’s home to pay my last respects, his daughter was standing beside her father’s body. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Just before he died, he mentioned three letters. We couldn’t understand them. He then asked, ‘Did all the films scheduled for Friday get released?’ ‘Yes, appa, they have all come out,’ I said. Next he uttered the word, ‘Sivaji’ and passed away.”
Ironically, the man’s first step into cinema began with clicking Sivaji Ganesan, and his last breath was with the name of the thespian on his lips!
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Features> Friday Review> History & Culture / by Malathi Rangarajan / March 24th, 2016
Madras Musings, a journal that focusses on heritage, nostalgia and on asking for a better Madras, has just completed 25 years.
Madras Musings, that tabloid-sized fortnightly that cares for the city, a journal that focusses on heritage, nostalgia and on asking for a better Madras, has just completed 25 years. That it has done so has been entirely due to a unique arrangement N. Sankar of the Sanmar Group made when it seemed as though, like many another small journal, it was doomed to failure after struggling along for five years when it had been mothered by what was then Lokavani-Hallmark Printers. The Sankar plan involved getting a dozen corporates who cared for the city to support the journal with an equal donation every year. That dozen has grown to nearly two dozen now — and no one asks for anything in return, not even reports about their activities; all they want is a place for their logos as acknowledgement.
I know of no other journal that has been kept going in this fashion. But that Madras Musings has been is because the donors felt strongly that the people of a city should know about the past and present of the place and be able to discuss its future. In the early years of the journal, this seemed to attract an elderly audience; this was reading material for old people, the young seemed to say. But to judge by the greetings Madras Musings recently received, the bulk came from such young persons’ media as Facebook, blogs and Twitter (if I’ve got the jargon right). And there appear to be more and more young people getting interested in heritage as well as wanting to do something for the city.
We are now hearing about young leaders of heritage walks, camera trails, sketching outings; we are hearing about the young getting down to beach cleaning, road sprucing, and working at reviving heritage. Just the other day, a couple of post-graduate doctors from Madras Medical College came to meet me to say they were working on a history of the college, that they were trying to give new life to old buildings like the famed Anatomy Block, and that they were trying to create a college museum.
Madras Musings, which has been associated with Madras Day, Madras Week, Madras Month has been noting how every year the participation of the young in heritage events has been increasing. You find them organising events, you find them on walks, you find them at lectures, you find them exhibiting and quizzing — and all in growing numbers every year.
It certainly triggered something, did Madras Musings, and now it watches the slow but steady growth of interest in heritage and in the city and looks forward to this burgeoning. But talk to those connected with the journal, and they’ll tell you a much wider audience needs to be reached. That there must be a reach to the grassroots. Anyone willing to support a Madras Musings-in-Tamil start-up?
Memories of times past
The picture of Yercaud and the Shevaroys last week brought back memories of my year at Montfort where I had come to do my Senior Cambridge. Together with Sacred Heart Convent (SHY), the two schools were the pride of Yercaud. It was only in much more recent times that I foundreason to believe that Yercaud, the first of the South’s hill stations, had much more to be proud of. M.D. Cockburn, the introducer of coffee, Robert Bruce Foote, the Rev. P. Percival, Dr. John Shortt, Nat Terry the boxer, and film mogul T.R. Sundaram all had their homes there. They’ve all figured in this column in the past for their significant contributions to the Presidency. But as schoolboys none of these names had meant anything to us, except possibly Terry and Sundaram of Modern Theatres. Our world tended to be centred on Montfort and on the SHY girls during the once-a-week film show in our hall into which they walked in two by two carefully watched over by Mother Bernard.
Montfort at the time was headed by Bro. Eleazar, Titch to all, but anything but small as a presence! It was only recently that I discovered that this Brother of the Order of St. Gabriel had come out to Montfort as a teenager, with his more earthly education incomplete. He arrived speaking only French, but went on to do his Senior Cambridge from Montfort in a couple of years and then Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees from Loyola, topping every class. What a fine teacher he proved and what a first class educational institution he made of Montfort during his tenure as Principal. That would rate him an out-of-the-ordinary Old Boy and another whom Yercaud should be proud of.
Sundaram’s was a rather different world from Titch’s. He had a gleaming white house, well raised off the road, which we used to stare at every time we went to Montfort and back. It had a magnificent garden well worth staring at if, at that age, we appreciated floral beauty, but the staring was more a sign of awe over an invisible presence, a man who made films by the score as well as money in numbers we couldn’t quite imagine. Of him, Randor Guy has said, “He was perhaps the only person in cinema history to own a studio and produce a hundred films, most of which he directed himself.” In that studio, over a period of 40 years, he produced films in all the South Indian languages besides movies in Hindi, Sinhalese and English. It was in Modern Theatres’ studio in Salem, just where the Ghat road to Yercaud begins, a studio with all film-making facilities under one roof and run like a smoothly functioning manufacturing unit, that Sundaram made the first Malayalam film, Balan, the first Malayalam colour film, Kandam Becha Kottu, and the first Tamil film in colour, Ali Babavum Narpathu Thirudargalum. As boys, particularly as boys in an Anglo-Indian school, we knew little of all this. But a movie-maker — and a person who was supposed to be the richest person in the district — was someone to be in awe of at that age, whoever you were.
So Sundaram’s house always had our attention as we marched to the Big Lake and back.
When the postman knocked…
* Mohandas has a query and I wonder whether anyone can help. Quoting this column and books I’ve written, he says the first car to be registered in Madras was Sir Francis Spring’s and it bore the number MC-1. The next car I have mentioned, he says, is Namberumal Chetty’s MC-3. But what was MC-2, he asks. It has been recorded that even before Spring’s car came out in 1901, A.J. Yorke, a director of Parry & Co, had brought out a car from England and that it attracted much attention on the roads of Madras. I wonder whether this was MC-2. Or is there another answer?
* Mail seeking help from readers of this column arrived the other day from David R. Armitage, Chair, Department of History, Harvard University. He and Jennifer Pitts of the University of Chicago are editing the essays of Prof. Charles H. Alexandrowicz for publication by Oxford University and they seek “any reminiscences of his time in Madras or any letter or any other writings of his that anyone may possess. Responses to armitage@fas.harvard.edu”. Prof. Alexandrowicz arrived in Madras in 1950 and the next year he started what was is now known as the Department of Legal Studies in the University of Madras. He started the first M.L. degree course in India in International & Constitutional Law. He headed the Department until 1961 when he left Madras after a decade in the city. He also was the first Chairman of the Alliance Française in Madras when it transformed itself in 1954 from the Groupe Française that had been founded in 1948.
* Commenting on Albion Banerjee’s religious leanings and his studying Tamil (Miscellany, April 4), M.S. Sethuraman writes, and I quote him: “Excommunication for travel abroad was followed in all parts of India. Mahatma Gandhi was ostracised and so also Dr. Swaminadhan. None of the Palghat Iyers offered for his marriage, resulting in his visit to his village and sought the daughter of Ammu’s mother.
“Sir Albion Banerjee ICS opted for Madras cadre, perhaps due to resistance from Bengal families. W.E. Banerjee, early Congress President, converted to Christianity when expelled from his caste due to his crossing the seas. Sir Albion should have studied Tamil after his Madras appointment (SM’s note: No). ICS officers were asked to learn a local language on appointment and cash awards are also awarded. A.S.P. Ayyar ICS, in addition to his Malayalam, learnt Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, but the then British Government limited the cash award to one language.”
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Features> MetroPlus> Society / by S. Muthiah / April 30th, 2016
TRAILING THE TURTLES: Historian Orissa Balu. Photo: Special Arrangement
Historian Sivagnanam Balasubramani, popularly known as Orissa Balu, deciphers the sea trade routes used by ancient Tamil sailors through his research on sea turtles
‘Thirai kadal odiyum thiraviam thedu’ (Seek your fortune even by venturing overseas) — Tamil poet Avvaiyar.
The Sangam literature is a rich repository of information on the ancient Tamil way of living. Amidst its chapters that vividly describe the beauty of nature, lifestyle and social structure of the old Tamil country, the Purananuru elicits the flourishing sea trade of those times. From ships, sea routes, daring maritime voyages to the merchandise that were traded and the expertise of the Tamil seafarers, it talks in detail of the mighty ocean and the strong bond the people shared with it.
For the past two decades, historian Orissa Balu, has been collecting real-life evidences and remnants from across the coast of Tamil Nadu and elsewhere in the world, correlating them with the references in Sangam literature. “The land expanse mentioned in the literary works is a much larger area than the present day Tamil Nadu state. Our ancestors had maintained trade links from Europe in the west to the Far East,” says Balu. “Excavations at Adichanalur have yielded skeletons of people belonging to five different races. It’s an indication that we have been a centre of international trade, paving way for exchange of culture and language.”
According the Balu, the root of the word ‘Tamilar’ comes from ‘Dramilar’, which in turn is a derivative of ‘Thirai Meelar’ – an expression to denote sea farers. “It was considered a science to be able to return from the sea. The Tamil seafarers had an advanced idea of direction, geography and weather. They were able to come back to their home turf after sea voyages spanning months and years covering millions of nautical miles. The word ‘Thirai Meelar’ is mentioned repeatedly in works like Manimekalai andSilapathikaram.”
Sea faring was such a thriving industry that the Tamil society is said to have had over 20 different communities working for sea trade. Literature talks about the Vathiriyars (people who weaved the sail), Odavis (men who built ships), Kuliyalis (Surfers) and Mugavaiyars (divers who fished pearl from the deep sea bed).
Balu who has done an extensive study on the ‘Paimara Kappal’ (sail boat), the indigenous vessel of ancient Tamils, says, “The sail cloth used in the Sangam age was 20 metres in width, 10 metres in height and could withstand a wind velocity of 250km/hr. It’s notable that even the women were experts in sailing and pearl fishing. Even today, we can find women diving into the sea in search of pearls along the coast of Tuticorin.”
He adds, “The mechanism of building the boat was unique as they used nearly 42 kinds of wood including the Karunkali wood for the central pole that withstood lightning. Today, the coastal Muslim community practices the age-old boat building technique. There are hardly 25 sail boats and five families of boat builders left in Kayalpatnam and Keezhakarai.”
The Sangam literature also documents the presence of over 20,000 islands in the Indo-Pacific Ocean, says Balu. ‘Muziris Papyrus is a document on the evolved sea trade of Tamils. It shows how advanced and strategically planned were the supply chain network and management policies of Tamil traders.” Balu postulates that ancient Tamil seafarers followed sea turtles and thus chalked maritime trade routes. For over 21 years, he has been doing research on sea turtles, mapping their migration routes.
“The turtle has the ability of returning to its home turf even after migrating thousands of miles in the sea. They float along sea currents and don’t swim in the ocean. The technique used by Tamil sailors must have been inspired from this,” he says. “There’s a proper documentation of the life cycle of sea turtles in Sangam literature.”
Balu is researching on the migration routes of Olive Ridleys, Green Turtles and Leatherbacks which visit the Tamil Nadu coast.
“My idea is to use historical facts for sustainable living in the present times,” says Balu, who runs the Integrated Ocean Culture Research Foundation, based in Chennai. “We have people from over 72 sea-related fields researching on various subjects. We have created a link between the stakeholders of the sea, from marine engineers and ship builders to fishermen.” Orissa Balu delivered a lecture at a programme organised by INATCH Madurai Chapter.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Features> MetroPlus> Society / A. Shrikumar / Madurai – April 29th, 2016
The forgotten ruins in this small village remind us of the power that a tiny, faraway country wielded on our coast for over 200 years.
As one drives down the East Coast Road from Chennai, about half an hour past the World Heritage Site of Mahabalipuram, is a village called Sadurangapattinam, anglicized to Sadras. An important Dutch settlement between the 17th and 19th centuries, this nondescript village is home to the ruins of a picturesque seaside brick fortress.
Back in the 16th century, before the Dutch arrived on Indian shores, the Portuguese had pretty much monopolized maritime routes between Asia and Europe. This wasn’t a problem as long as the Dutch could use Portuguese seaports to conduct their trade. However, this became unviable in the late 16th century, as Portugal was taken over by the king of Spain, with whom the Dutch were at war.
Since the Dutch now had to find another way, merchants in the tiny country started setting up companies to send fleets of ships to South East Asia.
In the year 1602, a national resolution merged all of these players into one Dutch East India Company. The company was empowered to do business, build ports, factories and fortresses, negotiate deals, and even wage wars if required.
Over the next two centuries, the Dutch East India Company established settlements in different ports on the Coromandel coast of southern India.
The first foothold that they gained was in Machilipatnam in present day Andhra Pradesh, where they built their first factory. Over the following decades, they set up shop in various coastal towns, including three important centres in Tamil Nadu – Pulicat, straddling the state’s border with Andhra Pradesh, which served as their capital for a long time, Nagapattinam their later capital, and Sadras, about 80km south of Chennai.
Sadras lies adjacent to the Kalpakkam township. Dating back to the mid 17th century, the fortress is built on a rectangular plan, and is entered through a gateway on the west, with a watchtower above it. A canon stands on each side of the entrance. The eastern wall overlooks the sea, and has a bastion on top, to protect the fort against attacks from the sea. Most of the fortress is gone, leaving a few structures like a granary, stables and a Dutch cemetery.
The cemetery contains beautiful tombs with ornate inscriptions dating back to the 17th century.
It is usually kept under lock and key, but visitors can request the caretaker to open it for them. An antechamber stands behind the graves, with sunlight streaming in through a caved-in roof.
A structure that was used to mount elephants
Back in the day, the Sadras fort was referred to as Fort Orange, because orange is the colour of Dutch royalty. The settlement was famous for the extremely fine muslin that was spun in its looms. Other items traded from the port included pearls, spices, rice, bricks and beautiful printed textiles called chintz.
The control that the Dutch East India Company had over the Coromandel Coast, gave them monopoly over trade routes to the East Indies, essentially the Malay Archipelago in Southeast Asia.
However, their supremacy didn’t last very long.
As the British rapidly grew stronger and the Dutch company began to decline due to various reasons like wars, competition, bad financial policies, increasing costs, decreasing demands, etc, it became unaffordable for them to hold on to their settlements in India. The British attacked and captured the Sadras fortress in the late 18th century, destroying it in the process.
In a few decades it went back into the hands of the Dutch, but in the 19th century, they signed a treaty with the British and ceded all of their Indian settlements to them.
The double decker tomb in front is said to belong to two brothers.
The details on a tomb
Today, not much remains of Sadurangapattinam’s Dutch legacy, but the forgotten ruins in this small village remind us of the power that a tiny, faraway country wielded on our coast for over 200 years.
All photographs by Madhumita Gopalan
(Madhumita Gopalan is a photographer, blogger and history enthusiast who loves photo-documenting travel, culture and architecture. She blogs at www.madhugopalan.com.)
source: http://www.thenewsminute.com / The News Minute / Home / by Madhumita Gopalan / Saturday – April 30th, 2016
Our city has only three seasons — hot, hotter and hell. Given this, would people believe me if I said that the temperature once dipped below freezing in our city, and that too, in the sweltering month of April? It would probably be dismissed as an April Fool’s Joke. And yet it happened exactly 200 years ago, in the last week of April 1815. The morning temperature was 11 degrees Celsius on Monday, April 24, and by Friday, April 28, it had dipped to minus 3 degrees Celsius. There are unverified reports of snow falling too but that may be an exaggeration.
The cause of this freak phenomenon was the volcanic eruption of Mount Tambora in distant Indonesia. At that time, this was the tallest peak in the archipelago which formed that country, rising to a height of 4,300 m.
Lava burst forth from it on April 10 and 11, 1815, with such ferocity that the explosion killed around 12,000 people and was heard 2,000 km away. It holds the record for being the largest volcanic activity ever in world history till date.
What followed next is best described in Tambora: The Eruption That Changed The World, by Gillen D’Arcy Wood — “Tambora’s dust veil, serene and massive above the clouds, began its westward drift aloft the winds of the upper atmosphere. Its airy passage to India outran the thousands of waterborne vessels below bent upon an identical course, breasting the trade winds from the resource-rich East Indies to the commercial ports of the Indian Ocean. The vanguard of Tambora’s stratospheric plume arrived over the Bay of Bengal within days”.
Madras was perhaps the first to feel it two weeks later, with the temperature dipping to freezing point, thanks to the aerosols in the volcanic cloud absorbing heat from the sun and the earth. Given that our public dons monkey caps and earmuffs in December each year, what was the fashion statement in freezing April 1815? There is, however, not one East India Company record that notes the reactions of the colonial masters or the people to this freak occurrence. There is also no mention of a tsunami. Pumice stone, however, washed up on the coast for a long while.
What followed thereafter was not as pleasant as the cold weather. The ash cloud spread globally, making 1816 the ‘year without summer’. In Madras, and the rest of India, it also meant a year without monsoon. Crops failed, as they did internationally. Famine in India was followed by cholera, which is now directly attributed by scholars to the volcano. Over 70,000 people perished globally, due to Tambora.
In August 1815, the brig Catherina — the first vessel from Java after the eruption — arrived in Madras.The Madras Courier interviewed the craft’s master for an eyewitness description of what happened. He also brought with him a bag of volcanic ash, which was forwarded to Calcutta for further analysis. But nobody linked the big freeze in Madras to the volcano!
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Features> MetroPlus> Hidden Histories / by Sriram V / April 17th, 2016
When J F Bailey, a constable in British Malaya, landed on the shores of Madras in the late 1890s, he had just a trunk of clothes and a few coins to start life afresh. Why he chose to move to the city remains a mystery, but his reason for setting up base in Perambur – after buying a thatched house from a milk vendor -was obvious: the railway workshops.
A century later, Bailey’s granddaughter Barbara Pavey and her son Robert are on a quest to find out why he chose the spanner over the baton and his life in the Straits Settlements – British colonies comprising parts of the southern and western Malay peninsula and adjacent islands, including Singapore.Their discoveries, they believe will unveil not just their personal roots but the story of Perambur, one of the earliest British settlements in Madras.
“My grandfather rarely talked about his days in the Straits. But his eyes would light up when he spoke about his life in Perambur and the road that led him to the love of his life – my grandmother,” says 70-year-old Barbara Pavey, blowing the dust off a broken wall on Ballard Street to reveal a named etched below: J F Bailey. A narrow path leads to the Baileys’ house, one of the few buildings on the street that have survived the thrust to modernity, but barely. While the columns, reflecting the Indo-Saracenic style (popular during thattime), stand tall, the walls are being crushed by the roots of a banyan tree.
“The building was called `the terrace house’ as it was the first in the neighbourhood with a terrace. Even the mayor’s and police commissioner’s houses on the street didn’t have one,” says Barbara, precariously climbing a flight of stairs that a broken balustrade lined.
Barbara, who moved into the Bailey house with her parents and seven siblings in 1958, reminisced of Christmas ball and parties at the Railway Institute; of men in bowler hats and suits cycling to work, and of people drinking wine and singing rhymes. But the locality was more than that. Noted for its railway establishments since the 1850s, the Anglo-Indian community in the neighbourhood, with their grit, dominated the Railways until well into the 1960s.
“We always made time for music too.Every evening, after my father got back from work at Central railway station, he would pick up his banjo, while my mother would play the piano. Their music could be heard right down the street,” recalls Barbara. The piano now lies in a locked room in the Baileys’ house, which has remained unoccupied since 2007, after Barbara moved to an apartment close to the locality following her mother’s death. With many members of her family and community leaving the country from the ’80s, many stories like Barbara’s have died along with the bungalows that once lined the narrow Ballard street.
There were around 6,000 AngloIndian families from in Perambur earlier; there are fewer than 1,300 now.
source: http://www.timesofindia.indiatimes.com / The Times of India / News Home> City> Chennai / Ekatha Ann John / April 29th, 2016
Old-timers remember Chennai as Madras, a city of horse-drawn carriages, lonely streets and men in suits. A TOI series brings recollections from a mix of neighbourhoods
Tall white pillars, long ornate windows and spacious porticos – the exquisite Chettinad Palace which stands along the Adyar estuary with its sprawling lawns and vast terraces was amongst the earliest structures that adorned Raja Annamalaipuram (RA Puram) more than 70 years ago. The magnificent mansion stood solitary, overlooking the Adyar river, as its ivory coloured walls made from Italian marble and limestone bespoke the royalty it housed. Built by wealthy businessman Raja Sir Annamalai Chettiar from Chettinad, the historic marvel is now part of an industrial and educational neighbourhood that buzzes with activity. “The palace was originally to be built opposite the Taj Connemara hotel on Binny road. But Lord Willingdon, the then governor of Madras requested my grandfather to give the land for constructing a club for women as there weren’t any then,” says MeenaMuthiah, Kumara Rani of Chettinad, and granddaughter of Raja Sir Annamalai Chettiar.
This led to the purchase of the expansive 104-acre estate in RA Puram where the palatial structure (the main house) and the smaller quarters, a few yards from the big one, were built.
“Our childhood memories revolve around The Theosophical Society, Kalakshetra campus, Rosary Matric school (then St Thomas Convent), where I studied and, of course, the Adyar river,” says Meena aunty, as she is fondly called.
The locality had only a handful of buildings, including Andhra Mahila Sabha, earlier the residence of capitalist Rangachari. “Previously, this neighbourhood was called Adyar. Only in recent times, they renamed it after my grandfather,” says the 81-year-old educationist. Many eminent people have frequented the aristocratic home for high teas and dinners on the lawn.
“Politicians such as Kamaraj and VR Nedunchezhiyan came here often. Thatha used to call the governors by name,” says Muthiah. “But since we were not allowed into these gatherings, we used to peek through the railing on the balcony and see them.”
The scenic landscape and lavish interiors served as an ideal backdrop for many movies including M S Subbulakshmi’s Meera. “The stretch where the Image Auditorium stands was a dairy farm then. We used to do kalamkari printing in a small unit, near the farm,” says Muthiah, reminiscing how well-known social reformer Kamaladevi Chattopadhyay bought material from the unit to take to Bengal. The day-long holiday from the convent typically began with a visit to the library in The Theosophical Society and ended with a game of pandi. “We would often stopover at Rukmani Devi’s house too. And it was athai who encouraged me to start a school inspired by Kalakshetra’s cultural values and the discipline of the convent I went to,” says Muthiah, who founded Chettinad Vidyashram in 1986, on 7 acres of the property.
source: http://www.timesofindia.indiatimes.com / The Times of India / News Home> City> Chennai / Aditi Maithreya / TNN / April 22nd, 2016
Statues of the Marudhu Pandiyar brothers — Periya Marudhu and Chinna Marudhu — who were hanged for their revolutionary acts, in Madurai. Photo: S. James / The Hindu
One of the freedom fighters, Puli Thevar, is considered the first south Indian to rebel against the British rule.
A documentary, commemorating the efforts of freedom fighters belonging to the Thevar community, was released on Sunday, the 15th anniversary of the Marathiya Manila Thevar Munnetra Peravai, an association of the community in Mumbai.
Titled ‘Contributions of the Thevar Community to the Indian Freedom Movement’, the 20-minute documentary gives a glimpse of the role the community played in the freedom struggle.
At a function in the Shanmukhananda auditorium, the contributions of five Thevar freedom fighters were commemorated in the presence of over 2,500 members from the community.
One of the freedom fighters, Puli Thevar, is considered the first south Indian to rebel against the British rule. He fought between the 1750s and late 1760s.
Varadarajan, founder president of Marathiya Manila Thevar Munnetra Peravai, said: “At a time when women were oppressed, Rani Velu Nachiyar valiantly fought in the 1740s, opposing the taxes levied by the British.”
The Marudhu Pandiyar brothers — Periya Marudhu and Chinna Marudhu — who were hanged for their revolutionary acts, issued a proclamation of independence from the British in 1801. Another freedom fighter, Pasumpon Muthuramalingam Thevar, was mentioned for the role he played in garnering support from south India for Subhash Chandra Bose.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Mumbai / Alakananda Chatterjee / Mumbai – April 19th, 2016
If you have ever been on a heritage walk, you may have wondered about the wealth of information that was shared with you about the city, its history, its people and institutions. Where does all of these come from? On World Heritage Day (April 18), we spoke to four people who conduct these walks to find out.
If you have ever been on a heritage walk in the city, you may have wondered about the wealth of information that was shared with you about Chennai, its history, its people, its institutions and its organisations.
Where does all of this come from? Where do those who conduct heritage walks discover interesting nuggets of information about the city’s streets? On World Heritage Day (April 18), we spoke to four people who conduct these walks to find out more.
Who: Sudha Umashankar and Padmapriya Baskaran. Contact: sudha.ganesha@gmail.com
What: Walk down Harrington Road
How: When Sudha Umashankar moved to Harrington Road in 1977, it bore no resemblance to the well laid-out street with coffee shops, a shopping mall and eateries that it is today. “It used to be deserted in the evenings and it was notorious for house break-ins,” she says. For the walk, which was held last month, Ms. Umashankar spoke to residents of the road, went to institutions to collect information and read a lot. “Books about Chennai, publications such as booklets or magazines brought out to commemorate milestones — these are all useful. I did get information online, but corroborated it first,” she says. The trick is to put the whole thing together in a digestible way, spiced with rumours or legends that people can identify with. Her next focus is Marshalls Road — choosing a street with history, a unique facet to it or landmark institutions helps, she says.
How: “One of the advantages of researching about an institution that has been there for so many years is that every development which has happened over the last century has been recorded in the form of letters, documents and books,” says N.L. Rajah, a senior advocate of the Madras High Court (HC).
Interactions with people who had worked at the High Court over the years and authoring a book, The Madras High Court: A 150-year Journey from Crown Court to People’s Court, also yielded a lot of information about the history surrounding the High Court; the legal history of the 150-year-old institution and the architectural value, all of which is explained during the walks. “Most of my walks are attended by architecture students wanting to learn about the sprawling premises, which will turn 125 years next year. As a part of the heritage committee of the HC, we speak about the ongoing renovation work and its importance for a structure with so much heritage value,” he says.
NICA IDs: 153220034/153220035/153220036
Who: V.S. Sukumar. Contact: 9840622611
What: Gandhi Nagar Heritage Walk
How: Having lived at Gandhi Nagar for 65 years, V.S. Sukumar, honorary secretary, Gandhi Nagar Cricket and Sports Club, knows the ins and outs of this area, which is one of the earliest planned layouts of Madras, built just after independence.
“Several of us have studied in the schools here, played cricket at the cricket club and even gone to the same nursery,” he says. Land documents, publications of the government from the time of the inauguration of the colony, the book South of the Adyar River and information from organisations are all sources of information, he says.
“There are also old institutions such as Theosophical Society and Kalakshetra nearby which are resources,” he says. Senior citizens apart, residents who have moved in to live in many of Gandhi Nagar’s bungalows-converted-to-apartment-complexes are interested in these 131 acres. The walk is held in December every year, he said.
Pics:
Who: Kombai S. Anwar. Contact: anvars@gmail.com
What: Nawab of Arcot: Walajah Trail
How: Kombai S. Anwar, who has previously hosted the ‘Nawab of Arcot: Walajah Trail’ and a walk focussing on the Islamic heritage on Mount Road says that he likes to focus on heritage which had been overlooked.
“We are inundated with heritage structures and monuments in Chennai so much so that many remain unaware of their value. I had a fair idea about these structures but information from books available at the Connemera, Madras University and Mohammeden Public Libraries in Chennai about Muslim monuments as well as the general literature of that period serve as great pointers towards how many of these heritage structures came to be,” he says.
He recalls that his initial tryst with research into the city’s heritage was as part of the Madras Gazetteers Project. “Visiting the many heritage structures in the city yielded so much information,” Mr. Anwar says.
Pics: In NICA today
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Chennai / by Zubeda Hamid & S. Poorvaja / Chennai – April 19th, 2016
The Bronze Gallery at Government Museum, Egmore Photo: R. Ravindran. / The Hindu
Come summer, and museums are spruced up to receive visitors ready to dip into a treasure trove of artefacts. But, museum-visiting must be made part of popular culture to create a generation familiar with its roots, writes SUBHA J RAO
It’s a searing 39 degrees and Anand Gopinathan’s T-shirt is plastered to his back. But, there’s a smile on his face as he walks from gallery to gallery at the Government Museum, Egmore, water bottle in hand. Kochi-based Anand, 45, is a compulsive museum-goer. He loves history, travels widely and makes it a point to visit the local museum, however small it may be. But, he has his favourites. “The Tower of London… I’ve visited it many, many times,” he says.
Elsewhere, reluctant children are being dragged from exhibit to exhibit by eager parents and patient teachers, as if to tick something off the bucket list. The children file past objects of exceptional beauty, little registering their historical worth.
So, how does one get children interested in museums? Or, even still, why must one visit museums? A senior Government employee, who’s served for a while in museums, puts it simply. “Museums are repositories of our history and culture. They bring alive a period that we can’t visit again. More importantly, at a time when the nuclear family has come to stay, oral retelling of history has taken a backseat. You need a museum to put facts in context for children. How else will they know where they come from?”
Another history-loving official says that museums also help put things in perspective. “We’ve learnt so little of our kings and kingdoms in history books. We call Samudragupta of the Gupta Empire the Napoleon of India. That’s terrible and a disservice, because he lived from 335-380 C.E., while Napoleon (1769-1821) came in much later. Samudragupta was the pioneer. And that’s something a museum will reveal with great clarity,” he says. Similarly, an entire generation looks up to the West for everything, little knowing the treasure trove of talent that we possess from the Indus Valley Civilisation.
Children enjoy a ride at the toy train at the Regional Rail Museum PHOTO: SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT
Part of the problem why museums have become distant spaces, says Arun Devraj, Curator, Regional Rail Museum (RRM), Chennai, is because we have so many restrictions — Don’t touch this. Don’t walk on the grass. Don’t enter this place… Arun’s done away with all of them at the RRM. Children, who usually hold a deep fascination for trains, walk on the tender grass, at least whatever remains of it after being scorched by the summer sun, walk into the bogies in the bogie park, touch and feel the seats and upholstery and come out beaming. They then take a ride in a toy train, passing a park where the attractions are erstwhile coaches, including the iconic blue-white railbus that used to chug along on the Shimoga-Talaguppa section in Karnataka, covering 82 km in a leisurely three hours and 45 minutes.
Inside the museum are models of bogies on the floor, so that children can sit around them and peer into them as much, instead of being forced to bend down to see the models. When we visited, a group of children from Ambattur had come in, sweaty and tired. But all that seemed to vanish as they gathered around the model trains, moving away from them with great reluctance.
Museums must be interactive spaces to strike a chord with visitors believes Neeti Anil Kumar, Curator, Fort Museum at Fort St. George. The museum is currently hosting Kesh Vinyasa, an interesting exhibition that showcases hair dressing down the ages. Dreadlocks, Asha Parekh-style top buns, hair parted on the side and decorated with beads… all of them seem familiar, and then Neeti reveals their origin — the Gupta period. She then points out to a Vijayanagar-era sculpture from Srimushnam, a lady with plaited, long hair decorated with flowers — the traditional poo jadai that a South Indian bride still wears. “But, this alone won’t do to bring in people. And so, to move with the times, we’ve put in two selfie booths,” she says. A majestic Samrat Asoka and a decked-up Begum Hazrat Mahal have been placed in the centre of the gallery. Place your face in the gap provided, and click away.
In the coins’ gallery, innovation rules. The museum offers an augmented-reality experience. Children and adults stand in front of a screen and hold a cardboard sheet. Suddenly, a coin zooms into view, and turns around slowly to show you its intricate beauty. This is a huge hit among kids, says the person manning this section. “Earlier, these exhibits were only under lock and key, ensconced in glass shelves. You could never see them up close and personal,” says Neeti. Likewise, at the entrance of the museum, there’s a talking cannon. In a seven-odd-minute speech, it speaks about how it came into being, where it was used, and why it went out of favour. And then, it goes on to promote peace and ahimsa. Children listen spellbound, because it is self-explanatory and in lucid language.
A touch screen features a comic at the Reserve Bank of India Financial Gallery. Photo: V. Ganesan. / The Hindu
A touch screen with games and puzzles and financial comics such as Raju and the Money Tree make the experience worthwhile at the Financial Gallery of the Reserve Bank of India. It is a space that promotes financial literacy, financial inclusion and customer protection. This place is an eye-opener for children and adults alike. The audio-visual section plays a selection of videos, including an interesting one on how mutilated and unusable rupee notes are destroyed. And, making the experience come alive, D. Vinothini, Assistant Manager, who looks after the gallery, shows us a briquette — a cylindrical brick made of shredded rupee notes! Every child leaving the museum is also given a small pouch with shredded notes.
A view of the Museum at Officers Training Academy in Chennai. Photo: K.V. Srinivasan / The Hindu
If all these museums promote a sense of enquiry, the one at the Officers Training Academy (OTA) inspires. It is a wonderful showcase of what the OTA, founded in 1963, stands for, and has a gem of a collection of weapons used in warfare. As you file past panels listing the achievements of the Academy, your heart swells with pride, and then almost immediately, turns sombre as you go through the list of Param Vir Chakra and Ashok Chakra awardees from the Academy. As you read the plaques detailing the bravery of every awardee, especially those awarded posthumously, your eyes mist over and you’re consumed by a fierce sense of devotion towards the country.
In a sense, that’s the purpose of the museum — it must inspire both officers in the making and those visiting, says Major Avinash Rawal, Officer-in-Charge. As he walks you around, he points out with pride the officers who’ve passed out of the OTA and proved their mettle in various theatres of war. This is, in effect, modern history. And, the museum places it in great perspective for future generations.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Features> MetroPlus / by Subha J. Rao / Chennai – April 15th, 2016
