The Bransons of Madras

“Shame on you, Muthu, not remembering Branson Bagh,” said Karthik Narayanan, a former President of the Madras Club, referring to my history of the Club, The Ace of Clubs, wherein it was recorded that the Club had established its second avatar in Branson Bagh after moving from its first, what became Express Estate and now mall. So chided, another penny dropped; I’d heard of a Spring Branson too, who, in his time, was a well-known Madras lawyer. But it was my chronicling colleague Sriram V who linked up the dots in a long mail to me.

Spring Branson of Branson Garden, Branson Garden Road, Kilpauk, may or may not have been related to the fellow-lawyer who was the occupant of Branson Bagh, but it was the latter, Reddy Branson, who was connected to the Richard Branson of my item on February 15th. And Sriram proceeds to bring us up-to-date with those Branson roots.

He begins his story in the 1820s with a Harry Wilkins Branson who — given the date when he was a Managing Partner of Pharoah & Co, Printers and Publishers — was likely to be the second great grandfather. And it was he who in 1832, marrying for a third time, wed Eliza Caroline Wilson Wellington Reddy, with a George Wellington as witness. Somewhere in those Wilson, Wellington, Reddy lines there was a Telugu maternal connection or, possibly, even a potential paternal one.

To Harry and Eliza Branson was born Frederick George Reddy Branson, who studied law and became a solicitor, setting up a firm called Branson & Branson. Sir P S Sivaswami Aiyer once recalled that the firm had the largest amount of business with Indian clients in Madras in the 1880s. The reason for this, states Sir Sivaswami Aiyer, was “due to Mr Branson being a linguist. He could speak Tamil, Telugu and Hindustani better than any native could.”

It was Reddy Branson who lived in Branson Bagh. After his time, the house was acquired by the Rajah of Bobbili, who lived there till at least the 1930s. After World War II, the property passed into the hands of the Madras Club, which, moving from Club House Road, settled into a purpose-built facility that replaced the old house. The property later became the site of government offices, of the Sapphire Theatre complex and Khivraj Motors, and is today part of a multi-storey commercial block after being with a political party for a time.

According to a High Court of Madras record, Branson & Branson existed till 1907 by when R Branson, W Branson and their manager had died. Who W Branson was awaits unearthing. But whether they were kin of Spring Branson is not known; James Henry Spring Branson was the son of James William Branson, who, as a barrister, practised in Madras in the 1830s. Spring Branson was Advocate-General of Madras in 1887 and a Member of the Legislature from 1886.

Sriram concludes. “It is a pity that a book titled The Branson Family of Madras: 1756 to 1863 is no longer available.”

Tailpiece: N.S. Yogananda Rao, referring to my item on Richard Branson, says ‘Reddy’ is a caste name, not a surname. I am aware of that, but I also know that most Reddys use it today as a surname.

*****

The Museum Tower

It was a tower (Miscellany, February 15) that existed for no more than a year, writes my fellow-chronicler Sriram V, who says he had seen brief mentions of it in a centenary volume the Madras Museum had brought out in 1951, and in Prema Kasturi and Chithra Madhavan’s South India Heritage, “but the picture was a pleasant surprise.”

Designed by Henry Irwin, the tower was meant to be very much part of what was called the Connemara Victoria Public Library & Museum Section. A traveller of the time, Eustace Alfred Reynolds-Ball, says it was inspired by the Palazzo Vecchio of Florence. Jan Morris, the journalist, said it was “unsuitably phallic”, but I still think it was just Irwin trying to do something one better than Chisholm’s Chepauk tower.

A year before the tower was completed in 1897, Irwin retired to Mount Abu and, as in the case of the High Court of Madras, J H Stephen, Chief Engineer, PWD, Madras Presidency completed the work. Whereupon Governor Sir Arthur Havelock inaugurated it in the presence of G S T Harris who had succeeded Irwin as Consulting Architect, Government of Madras. No one knows why, but, shortly afterwards, Harris began instigating a whole heap of rumours that the tower was not stable. He also persuaded the Governor that the library-museum complex would be better off without the tower. Stephen tried his best to keep the building in place, but the Governor had meanwhile heard stories that Irwin had also done less-than-par work in Simla. Havelock, thereupon, decided the tower should be pulled down, though there was much public opposition to it.

When Harris lost no time in getting the earth around the tower loosened and the bricks and stones at the top knocked down, there was much public protest, but it was ignored. And, sometime in 1898 the tower ceased to exist, according to Indian Engineering by Patrick Doyle, which was published in Calcutta.

Tailpiece: I’ve discovered who Geoffrey Burkhart, who sent me the Museum Tower picture, is. Dr.M.A Kalam, former head of the Madras University’s Department of Anthropology, tells me that Dr Burkhart was a regular visitor to the Department from the 1960s, when he started his research for his doctorate, till recent years when he was working on several projects. A frequent visitor to Madras, Burkhart is Anthropologist (Emeritus) with the American University, Washington D.C. Dr.Burkhart’s research from 1983 focussing on an Arcot Lutheran Church congregation, led him to the churches in George Town and an interest in colonial Madras. This resulted in a plan he put together for a study group (of retired people) at the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute of American University, the subject being “Telling Lives in Colonial Madras”. He organised it based on personal narrative: letters, diaries, biographies, autobiographies, etc.

Kalam also sends me today’s picture of a warning sign somewhere in or near Madras taken in the 1940s. The photograph was accessed and sent to him by Burkhart. I wonder whether any reader recognises it or knows anything about it.

*****

A Gurkha thambi

Not only did he rise from jawan to battalion commander but he, a Gurkha from Pokhara, Nepal, became a Madras thambi in the process. The story is told in a letter from Col. B Nasir to his friend, Om Prakash Narayan, who forwarded it to me. Col.Um Bahadur Gurung of 19 Madras is, however, a man grieved today. It was his ‘little brothers’ who died in Siachen, including Lance Naik Hanamanthappa Koppad, the search for whom Gurung kept going, staying put at around 20,000 feet all the time as he supervised rescue operations on the spot, keeping his men going in relays.

Gurung joined the Gurkha Rifles as a sepoy and, in tough competition, was chosen to join the Army Cadet College, Delhi, which trains other ranks to be commissioned as officers. He then did a stint in the Indian Military Academy and was commissioned into the Intelligence Corps. But when he was sent to 19 Madras on attachment, his superiors found his ability exceptional that a special request was made – and pursued – to keep him with the battalion. A former commander of his says, “He was a Gurkha but he was received very well by the Madrasis, especially after they had seen him in action at the Line of Control.” Adds Maj.Gen Virendra Kumar (Rtd), “I had left a report with my successor that we should try to retain him, especially for his conduct in small team operations. It is not easy to make the transition from jawan to officer, but Gurung made it through the written tests and interviews. Look what he has delivered today. Bodies have taken six to eight months to be found in the Glacier.” But Gurung had faith; he always had a never-say-die attitude, writes Col. Nasir.

*****

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Features> Metroplus / by S. Muthiah / Chennai – February 27th, 2016

Early one morning this month, I set out for Prakasam Salai (aka Broadway) with a few friends, our destination being the Pidari Amman Koil.

It all began with a search on Google, regarding the North Gate of Fort St. George. I came across a House of Lords paper dating to 1839. Right-wing Protestants of Madras had complained about the practice of the East India Company supporting Hindu and Muslim festivals in the city and its environs. The paper listed several ‘heathen’ events, in which the Company played a part. Among them was the annual procession of the Idol Padarier, the Goddess of Madras. The festival, an ancient one, had not been held for 30 years when Mr E, the Collector of Madras, decided to revive it in 1818. The person referred to is obviously the orientalist FW Ellis, who helped establish the College of Fort St George, gave us the Dravidian proof for the southern languages, and translated the Kural.

Ellis, however, died before his plans became a reality. The Company took it upon itself to revive the custom in 1821, and annually sanctioned Rs. 350 for its conduct. The Goddess was brought out of her shrine in procession and came to the North Gate of Fort St George. There, the collector waited upon her and presented her with a ‘gold botto called talee, a piece of red silk cloth called Cooray with Doopa Deepum (incense)’. Town was then a walled city, and when it was found difficult to carry the idol through the Pully Gate at the end of Thambu Chetty Street, the height of the arch was increased at Company expense.

The Eicher map of Madras revealed a Pidariar Koil Street in Town off Broadway. A call to good friend Prasanna Ramaswami confirmed that Pidari is the Tamil derivative of the Sanskrit term Pida Hari — destroyer of suffering and that it was a Goddess.

And so there we were, looking for the Pidariar temple. We got caught up in a poultry market that comes up each Sunday in the environs, but managed to reach Pidariar Koil Street; from there, we turned into Amman Koil Lane. There was a shrine for Goddess Ekavalli, whose figurine and bali peetham pointed to a venerable past. Without revealing what we knew, we asked the priest about the temple’s history. He did not know much, but he did remember his father telling him that sometime in the distant past the Goddess set out each year on a tour of her city’s bounds and that the collector waited on her at the Fort. That confirmed that this was indeed the Goddess Pidariar. As to how she became Ekavalli is an unsolved mystery. When did she stop going out? That too is not known.

The temple happily shares a wall with a mosque. In Chennai, secularism is a way of life.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Features> MetroPlus – Hidden Histories / by Dr.Vijay Sriram (Sriram V)/ Chennai – February 26th, 2016

The inscription has it that it was composed by Guru Rajacharya of Kumbakonam, who was the brother of Guru Ragavendra of Brindhavan.

As Kumbakonam is gearing up for the Mahamaham, discovery of a rare inscription throws light on the Mahamaham tank plan and the arrangement of 20 ‘theerthas’.

“I found inscription in Sanskrit on the outside wall of the sanctum sanctorum of the Brahma Theerteswara temple on the bank of the tank. Probably this is the first inscription giving plans of a temple tank,” historian Kudavayil Balasubramanian told The Hindu.

He said the Brahma Theertheswara temple is one of the sixteen temples built by Raghunatha Nayakkar under the guidance of Maha Pradani Govinda Dikshithar in the 17thcentury. He had also renovated the steps on all sides of the temple leading to ‘theerthas’ .

“The ‘theerthas’ listed in numerical order in the inscription will help the devotees find their exact location,” he says. According to the inscription, ghats leading to the tank have been identified as various ‘theerthas’ and they are similar to the ghats in the Ganga river at Kasi.

“In the past, the tank would be full during Mahamaham. But in the early 1900s, wells symbolising various ‘theerthas’ were dug and the water level in the tank was kept very low to prevent drowning of devotees,” said Mr Balasubramanian.

Raghunatha Nayakkar also built the sixteen Dhana Mantapas in front of the shrines.

The inscription has it that it was composed by Guru Rajacharya of Kumbakonam, who was the brother of Guru Ragavendra of Brindhavan.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Chennai / by B. Kolappan / Chennai – February 03rd, 2016

A calendar anyone interested in the city’s past might like to possess is ‘Madras Then…’ brought out by the C.P. Ramaswami Aiyar Foundation with a dozen old pictures of Madras taken in, I would say, the early 20th Century. There are certainly a couple of pictures in it I’d like to use in this column when the occasion rises, because in one case the view presented is of buildings well-known but no longer visible in this fashion, and, two, the scene and its venue no longer exist. Meanwhile, however, with all the recent references to houses on Eldam’s Road, a third picture caught my attention and I present today The Grove, the Foundation’s present home and once the home of Sir C.P., though its main entrance was then on what was Mowbray’s Road.

Once woodland, the land at the junction of Eldam’s Road and Mowbray’s Road (T.T.K. Road) had belonged to John Bruce Norton, the eminent lawyer. It then passed into the joint hands of Bhashyam Aiyangar, Madhava Rao and Chentsal Rao. They, in turn, sold the three acres and a small house in it for Rs. 30,000 to Venkatasubba Aiyar in 1882. Venkatasubba Aiyar had only one child, Seethalakshmi Ammal, and she was CP’s mother. In 1885-86, Venkatasubba Aiyar developed the small house into a mansion, The Grove, and gifted it to his only daughter. She in turn left it to her only son, CP.

Two outstanding features of the house were its magnificent, eight-pillared portico and its 16-pillared central hall, a kalyanakoodam (wedding hall). In this marriage of Occidental and Oriental styles, the former’s pillars were of masonry, the latter’s included 12 of Burma teak and four of African ebony. Steel girders were imported from England for the roof of the kalyanakoodam and the ceiling for the Venetian marble-floored library came from Belgium. Over the years, the mansion was expanded considerably, but leaving its main features untouched.

A description of the property adds, “The grounds were lovingly tended… Two-century old rain trees and the rare African baobab trees were carefully looked after. Well manicured lawns were laid. Exotic plants defied the searing Madras summers to perform botanical miracles. Fountains and marble statues sprouted at the most unexpected spots. A lovely naked marble maiden sprang up bang in front of the portico. At the main entrance to the property a grand pair of wrought iron gates was erected. Needless to say, the long driveway (from the gates to the portico) was simply spectacular…”

It was in these grounds that CP exercised his passion for riding while his numerous dogs yapped at the heels of whichever horse he was on. These gardens had a fascinating story to tell. When Annie Besant was interned in Ooty over her allegedly seditious writing in New India, CP took it upon himself to edit the paper and bring it out. If he had edited the paper from his house, he ran the risk of the house being confiscated under the prevailing laws of sedition. So he placed chair and desk under the shade of a divi divi tree in the garden and put up a notice saying the spot was the editorial office of New India. It was an arrangement that continued till Annie Besant returned to Madras.

But for all the magnificence of The Grove and its gardens, its lavish parties and the hosting of the eminent, its pride was its library. In the 1930s, it was described by a knowledgeable visitor as “one of the finest private libraries in India”. It had 50,000 books, numerous paintings and antiques. Situated on the first floor of The Grove, in a room that could have done with more windows, it was a meticulously arranged facility that always overwhelmed visitors.

*****

When the postman knocked …

With a whole heap of mail, the rest of this week’s column is devoted to what the mail, snail as well as space, has brought in.

*Pointing out an error in my recollection of G. Subramania Aiyar (Miscellany, January 18) S. Raghavan writes: “The story states that Mr. Aiyar was among those who started The Aryan School (which was the precursor to Hindu High School). Hindu High School (or its precursor), to the best of my memory, was founded in 1852 and the school celebrated the centenary in 1952 with the construction of a Centenary Block. Mr. Aiyar was born around 1855, I wonder as to how he could have been among those who started Hindu High School. Of course, if he had started The Aryan School sometime in the 1880s and this was later merged with Hindu High School (which obviously was an older school) the story may be acceptable but in that event Mr. Muthiah ought to have clearly stated thus (instead of stating “now Hindu High School” in parenthesis). The story gives the impression that Hindu High School was started by Mr. Aiyar (as Aryan High School) which is definitely not true.” This was a case of error compounding error. My original source was an article in The Hindu of April 26, 1998 which stated: “He was appointed headmaster of the Anglo-Vernacular School, Triplicane. Later, he started the Aryan (now Hindu) High School.” What I did not read carefully enough was a correction to this from V. Subramanyan, grandson of G. Subramania Aiyar. He wrote to the author of the original article as follows:

“No doubt G.S. Aiyar was appointed the Headmaster of the Anglo-Vernacular School (now the Hindu High School), Triplicane. Disagreeing with some of the committee’s policies, he came away and in 1888 founded Aryan High School (now Kellett High School), Triplicane. He admitted to the school all boys regardless of caste.” In further clarification, may I add, a Tamil and a Telugu Padasala in Triplicane were founded in 1852 and merged in 1860 as the Triplicane Andhra Dravida Padasala. This was later renamed Anglo-Vernacular High School of which G.S. Aiyar became Headmaster in 1879. This School was renamed as Hindu High School in 1897.

*It’s all still a bit confusing, those houses on Eldam’s Road that I wrote about on January 4 and 25. V. Ramnarayan tries to explain it to me in these words: “Soundarya was the large house next to Sri Sundar(where P.S. Ramachandran (PSR) lived) in a compound measuring 28 grounds or an acre or so.Soundarya was in a separate compound to the left of Sri Sundar. There were two houses, Sundar andParvati, in one compound, and Soundarya was a different property. It was much bigger, too.Soundarya had belonged to Justice P.R. Sundara Iyer, Ramachandran’s father. M.D. Seshadri Iyengar had bought it for about Rs. 60,000. P.S. Ramachandran’s eldest brother P.S. Swaminathan owned Soundarya Nursery, and I am sure it was no coincidence that it shared a name with the Eldam’s Road house. Sri Parvati still stands in its original form, maintained by Lakshmi Venkataraman, daughter of P.S. Venkataraman (PSR’s elder brother), a building contractor. At Sri Parvati is an art gallery run by Lakshmi. Sri Sundar was developed into flats many years ago.

“When I was growing up, both Sundar and Parvati were with our extended family (and still are), whileSoundarya was already owned by M.D. Seshadri Iyengar. It had belonged to an Englishman, and I have all along believed that P.R. Sundara Iyer bought it from him and that his sons sold it to MDS. However, I was once told, that P.R. Sundara Iyer sold it to an Englishman who sold it to MDS.

“When P.R. Sundara Iyer’s sons ventured into business and went bankrupt, only the minor son P.S. Ramachandran’s properties had been protected under the law, according to family lore. That is howSundar and Parvati were saved. PSR is said to have helped his brothers, including the eldest, P.S. Swaminathan, who then started Soundarya Nursery, which became a success.”

*Joshua Kalapati, the chronicler of Madras Christian College, writes in connection with my reference to Prof. Edward Ross and S.R. Ranganathan, the Father of Library Science (Miscellany, January 4), “Ross was an outstanding teacher of both head and heart. He was Seventh Wrangler in the Mathematical Tripos of Cambridge University in 1904. Having studied Statistical Theory under the famous Professor Karl Pearson in the University of London, Ross sought to introduce all these pioneering ideas in the Mathematics Department of Madras Christian College, where he taught between 1907 and 1933. Ross not only enabled Ranganathan to do his B.A. in 1909, but Masters as well, although he was the only one student in the Mathematics Department. It was a blessing because Ross taught his brilliant pupil, as it is said, ‘in the corridors, in his flat and all around’. Because Ranganathan lived in the First Student Home of the College, more interaction was possible. There was also a connection with the great mathematician Srinivasa Ramanujan, who also admired the genius of Ross. Robert Kanigel, Ramanujan’s biographer, narrates that when he was very ill, Ramanujan placed two large notebooks stuffed with Mathematics into the hands of a close associate, saying, “If I die, please hand over to Professor Singaravelu Mudaliar from Pachiappa’s or to Edward Ross of Madras Christian College’.”

*From Australia comes another communication from A. Raman. Sending me the title page of Materia Medica – Madras published by the Government of Madras, he points out that the correct name, as indicated on this page, is Mohideen Sheriff and not Moodeen Sheriff as variously stated (Miscellany, January 4). Dr. Mohideen Sheriff’s classic comprises six volumes.

*A.V. Mukuntharajan, responding to my request for more information on P.M. Adikesavalu Naicker (Miscellany, January 18) wonders whether he is the same person who was known as Sardar Adikesavalu Naicker who lived opposite the railway gate in Washermenpet. The title ‘Sardar’, he thinks, was bestowed by Mahatma Gandhi. Which only makes me want to know more about this leader.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Features> MetroPlus> Society> Madras Miscellany / by S. Muthiah / January 30th, 2016