A still from documentary film Regai, in which Piramalai Kallar community members are forced to affix their thumb impression under the Criminal Tribes Act | express
Madurai :
The historical struggle of subaltern groups against the Colonial government in Southern Tamil Nadu has rarely been touched upon by local historians. Even those events that came to light in the recent years were distorted by fringe political groups, which gave a communal twist to them.
In an attempt to recall one such struggle, an independent documentary filmmaker, Dinakaran Jai of Sivaganga, has documented the struggle of the Piramalai Kallars against the Criminal Tribes Act (CTA) enacted in 1871, which resulted in 16 Kallars, including a woman, being shot dead at Perungamanallur near Usilampatti in Madurai by the British Police.
Speaking to Express about his documentary film Regai, (fingerprint) on the eve of 101th anniversary of the Perungamanallur incident which happened on April 3, Dinakaran Jai, a Tamil graduate, said he stumbled upon the Kallars’ struggle against the draconian CTA when he read a book on Maruthanayagam from Ramanathapuram. “When I searched for history books to learn more about the struggle, I couldn’t find any research work on it,” he said. He then spent nearly three years searching for colonial documents in Tamil Nadu archives to gather verbal information about how the Piramalai Kallar community members were subjected to various forms of punishment by the Colonial government for revolting against the CTA. “Originally, the Colonial Government introduced the CTA in 1871 classifying many subaltern communities, tribes and nomads as criminals, and forcefully restricted their movement within the villages. These restraints by the British police forced the Kallar community people to take out a march from Perungamanallur to Thirumunagalam on April 3, which ended in the police firing, said Dinakaran
The Colonial government amended the Act in 1911, 1924 and 1944. However, it was repealed after various leaders including George Joseph, U Muthuramalinga Thevar, Varadararajulu, the then Adi-Dravidar Minister Muniaswamy, fought against it, said Dinakaran.
source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> States> Tamil Nadu / by Gokul Vannan / April 03rd, 2015
Showering praise on Tamil poet-saint Kothai Andal, BJP MP Tarun Vijay on Wednesday said the Vaishnavite icon had challenged male supremacy 1300 years ago, inspiring women to assert their rights to make personal choices.
Not only did he mention the lone woman saint of Vaishnavite tradition at the Women in Parliament Global Summit 2015 held in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, he also presented a portrait of Andal to the global chairperson of the summit, Sylvana Koch.
Tarun Vijay said Andal’s legacy must be followed by women across the continents to make this planet happier and safer for women. “Gandhi said women don’t need protection, but a freedom to make choices and freedom to make decisions. Poetess Andal, who was born in Tamil Nadu 1300 years ago is a great symbol of that power. Making choices for her and challenging male domination in that era”, the BJP MP said.
“India’s legacy is to respect women. I begin from Andal to Lal Dyad of Kashmir and to Sister Nivedita and Rani Gaidinliu, who fought against the British at the age of 16, and Indira Gandhi to our present day world boxing champion Mary Kom, India is a saga of women empowerment in a sea of gender discriminations.”
He said India was leading the world with highest number of micro level women members of gram panchayats which is about 1.4 million. Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s campaign to help women resulted in a mission to build 12 million toilets helping girls and women. Revolutionary Jandhan scheme empowered women most and just a signature enabling exercise made them feel good and empowered.
“I was in Ladakh to inaugurate this scheme when a bank manager asked a woman to sign on a form. She was perplexed and said, but sir, only big and influential people sign, I can merely write my name. When manager taught her to sign, that was a defining moment for her and she felt empowered. A mere opportunity to put a signature brings about a change in her life. Its the decision making power that she enjoys”, Tarun Vijay said. Place technology in the hands of women to change the world for betterment, he added.
source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> Cities> Chennai / by Express News Service / March 26th, 2015
After a brief lull, efforts to convert the Institute of Anatomy building at Madras Medical College into a full-pledged museum have gained pace. A seven-member “core committee” headed by college Dr R Vimala, has been formed recently to work out the design and suggest the kind of exhibits.
The decision to have a fullfledged museum was taken after the anatomy department was shifted to the new campus on the erstwhile Central prison premises in 2013.
Dr R Vimala said the museum would have exhibits of evolution of medicine at MMC, rare photographs, British-era certificates and documents, history of doyens of the alumni and historical events of the college. Also old equipment, medical devices would occupy a place. “We are looking forward to contribution of rare pictures of relevance to this Institution. Soon we will create a new email id, enabling people to share,” she added.
Speaking to reporters on Monday, Dr Sudha Seshayyan, Director, MMC Institute of Anatomy, said the heritage structure, popularly known as ‘Red Fort’, would not be disturbed. Only renovation to rectify the damages would be done. “We also seek help from government curator for maintaining the museum. Now, there are more than 1,000 specimens of which a few are century-old precious possessions. So funds for renovation works are invited. Once ready, it will be open for doctors, medical students and the public,” she added.
Meanwhile, MMC alumni, starting from 1961 batch, have donated Rs 2 lakh till Saturday, giving hope that funds will pour in.
Dr Sudha further said names of people donating above Rs 5 lakh would be inscribed on a plaque. It is estimated that the work for the conversion into museum would take another two years.
source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> States> Tamil Nadu / by Express News Service / March 17th, 2015
In a rare discovery, researchers from the Annamalai University history department have found a 2,200-year-old stone mace head at Marungur village near Neyveli.
It is believed that ancient people used the mace as a tool for both hunting and agricultural purposes. The wooden staff attached to the mace head allowed the tool to be used as a weapon.
Sivaramakrishnan, an assistant professor hoped that further research would lead to more findings.
source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> States> Tamil Nadu / by Express News Service / March 18th, 2015
A day after the Rail Heritage Centre in Trichy was thrown open to the public, the museum received `1 crore in the railway budget announcement. The funds will be used to preserve historical records of Southern Railway . A similar heritage centre is functioning in New Delhi. “To protect and preserve the valuable historical records, including drawings, maps, commentaries, company railway records, etc, from decay it is proposed to set up a Rail Heritage Document Centre and Archives.The institute can be located at Trichy , Southern Railway and Delhi, Northern Railway .It is therefore proposed to take up this work at an anticipated cost of `2.6 crore with an outlay of `1 crore during 2015-16,” the railway budget said on Thursday .
Trichy is home to the Golden Rock workshop, which renovates and refurbishes locomotives. The workshop also manufactures steam locomotives for mountain railways, the most notable being the four X-class oil-fired steam locomo tives that are used on the Nilgiri Mountain Railway (NMR) between Mettupalayam and Coonoor.
The Rail Heritage Centre is located on five acres adjacent to Trichy Junction railway station and was built at a cost of `1.5 crore. A large collection of vintage items, including century-old documents, a firefighting vehicle and a toy train, is on display .
Addressing the media after throwing open the railway museum on Wednesday , divisional railway manager Manjula Rangarajan said plans to build an extra floor for scholars to research the century-old documents are on the cards and a proposal will be sent to the railway ministry .
For a nominal fee of `5 for children and `10 for adults, the museum will be open to the public from 9.30am to 5.30pm, except on Mondays.
Railways decided to set up a heritage centre in Trichy because the town was the headquarters of South Indian Railway , which had its origins in July 1874 and succeeded the earlier Great Southern Of India and Carnatic Railway Companies. The first line from Nagappattinam to Erode was opened in May 1859 by the Great Southern of India Railway Company . It became one of the main centres of railway development in the peninsular region under the British.
source: http://www.timesofindia.indiatimes.com / The Times of India / Home> Budget 2015> Rail Budget 2015 / TNN / February 27th, 2015
Just as the matriarch of the Tamil household in Chennai dots her porch with a kolam at the crack of dawn every day, women of the Parsi community pretty up theirs with what they call a ‘chalk’.
“It’s just like the kolam, except we have readymade tins with holes designed in them so all we need to do is fill them with rice flour and tap them on the ground,” said Tehnaz Bahadurji, a Parsi resident of Chennai, who spoke on the history, culture and practices of her community at Alliance Francaise on Tuesday. Her lecture, which was organised by the Indian National Trust for Arts and Cultural Heritage (INTACH), traced how the Parsis migrated to India, how they trickled into Chennai and finally, how they live and, most important, dine.
While the first wave of Parsis settled in Gujarat centuries ago, the first Parsi to come to Chennai was Heerjibhai Kharas, who came here in the 1800s, said Bahadurji, who added that the government gave the community land in 1814, on which a Fire Temple was built more than a century later. The Parsi Fire Temple celebrated its centenary in the city in 2010.
Bahadurji then went on to list the famous Parsis past and present in Chennai – the most prominent among them being social activist and philanthropist Mary Clubwallah Jadhav (who died in 1975), who received the Padma Shri, Padma Bhushan and Padma Vibhushan from the government.
“The Parsis and Iranis were also involved in the cinema industry in Chennai. We built four theatres – the Elphinstone Theatre, the New Elphinstone Theatre, Wellington Theatre, and the Casino Theatre (which still stands on Anna Salai),” said Bahadurji.
When she got to the culture of the Parsi community, which has now dwindled to just 60,000 people in India, Bahadurji spoke of how several traditions were on the verge of dying out. The tradition of the ‘thoran’ for instance, which was used to decorate the doors of Parsi homes.
When she spoke of the ‘gaara’, the Parsi saree, Bahadurji talked of how in the old days women wore their sarees over their heads with only one ear exposed. “That’s the reason why you will find that Parsi jewellery sets in the old days came with only one earring. The jewelers probably figured they did not have to bother making two since the women always had one ear covered,” she said.
source: http://www.timesofindia.indiatimes.com / The Times of India / Home> City> Chennai / TNN / March 05th, 2015
The mandapam housing the memorial to Dr. Sundara Reddy. / The Hindu
“You need permission,” says the watchman at Ramaniyam Sanjivini, a residential complex in Thiruvanmiyur, and despatches his assistant to call the secretary of the building association. I blink at the CCTV camera, hoping the secretary will take kindly to what he sees. Soon, a couple of dhoti-clad seniors walk toward me. “I need to photograph the memorials of Dr. Sundara Reddy and Dr. Muthulakshmi Reddy,” I tell them. “Historian Narasiah told me I’d find the shrine and the memorials here.” They point to the round-about ahead; a few steps down and I’m face-to-face with the stone memorials — Dr. Sundara Reddy’s under a traditional mandapam and Dr. Muthulakshmi Reddy’s out in the open air.
The memorial to Dr. Muthulakshmi Reddy / The Hindu
Dr. Muthulakshmi Reddy deserves more than just an open stone plaque in a private property. Born in the princely state of Pudukkottai on July 30, 1886 to Narayanaswami Iyer and Chandramma (16), a devadasi, Muthulakshmi was one of eight siblings. An exceptionally bright child, she completed schooling from home, fought for higher education, and was admitted to college as the first girl student when the Maharaja passed an order for her to be enrolled. (She sat behind a screen visible to the teachers alone, and left the class while the boys remained seated.) She topped the Intermediate exams, refused to get married and insisted on doing medicine, a decision brought on by her mother’s cancer attack and death of a cousin during childbirth.
In Madras, she met Sarojini Naidu at Dr. Nanjunda Rao’s Mylapore bungalow, and with her attended Annie Besant’s speeches at Adyar, and was drawn to the Home Rule Movement. Having stood first in her Medical degree (MB & ChM) exam, she worked at the Women and Children’s Hospital in Egmore, the first lady house surgeon in Madras’ medical history. She married Dr. Sundara Reddy in 1913.
Meeting the kids in Dr. Vardappa Naidu’s Destitute Home for Boys and Girls on her child’s Vidyabhyasam Day, she vowed to help them. When her youngest sister died of cancer, Muthulakshmi decided to do all she could to tackle the disease. Foregoing her handsome practice, she went to London with her husband and two boys for PG studies. In June 1926, she attended the International Congress of Women in Paris as India’s representative. When she returned, the Women’s Indian Association proposed her name for the Legislative Council and she became the first woman legislator in the Council. She was also the first alderwoman between 1937 and 1939. During her time, the Council passed a resolution giving the right of franchise to women. Her association with a home run by Sister Subbulakshmi brought her close to the plight of women and children, and she piloted the legislation preventing child marriage. Her bill for abolition of the devadasi system was passed after much debate in February, 1929. In 1937, she moved a bill for Inam lands to be given to devadasis. In 1930, when a batch of seven freed devadasi girls were refused accommodation in Madras hostels, she started the Avvai Home to house and train children and young girls, selling her jewellery for its basic facilities. She organised the first Vigilance Association, Rescue Home for Women and supported the Children’s Aid Society.
She resigned from the Council when Gandhiji was arrested in 1929-30. She was then editing Stri Dharma, a journal promoting the national movement. She went as a delegate to London to depose before the Lothian Committee on Franchise and to Chicago to attend the International Congress of Women. In 1935, MMC moved a resolution for a specialised hospital for cancer, but she had to wait to see it happen. After constant campaigning, she collected Rs. 2 lakh and established the Cancer Institute in 1955. She was awarded the Padma Bhushan in 1956. In 1967, she spoke for half-an-hour at the Golden Jubilee celebrations of Women’s Indian Association, her last public speech. She passed away on July 22, 1968.
How did the plaque get there? The land belonged to Dr. Reddy and her son lived there, said Narasiah. After he passed away, the builder purchased it. While researching on Dr. Reddy, Narasiah came to know of the memorial at the residential complex. “I showed Sridhar of Ramaniyam the memorials at the site, and requested him to preserve them along with a shrine where the Reddys used to pray.” It turned out he had already promised Dr. Shantha of the Cancer Institute the memorials would be left untouched. “Dr. Shantha visits it often to see that it is well-maintained,” said the seniors.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Features> MetroPlus / by Geeta Padmanabhan / March 03rd, 2015
The dam constructed by Parakrama Pandian in Kuruvithurai. Photo: Special Arrangement
Inscriptions dating back to 12th Century, found along river Vaigai, talk about the efficient water management system devised by the Pandiya Kings
With summer round the corner, most of us are already worried about water scarcity this season. Experts have done their bit by sounding the alarm on the depleting water table. But have you ever wondered how are ancestors used, managed and conserved this elixir of life?
When it comes to effective conservation, distribution and management of water, one cannot dispense the role of King Karikal Chola, who built the Grand Anaicut across River Cauvery. There are several historical evidences to prove that ancient Tamil rulers had effective water management systems in place in their respective kingdoms.
The Pandiya kings constructed check dams across River Vaigai. King Maravarman Arikesari, also known as Koon Pandiyan, who ruled Madurai during Seventh century built a check dam across Vaigai and named it after himself. It is near the Kuruvikaran Salai road and archaeologists have found a stone inscription there. Likewise, King Parakrama Pandiyan constructed a check dam Sitranai in Kuruvithurai near Madurai. He also extracted granite from the nearby hill Kuruvikal and built a stone quarry. Stone inscriptions in Kuruvithurai Perumal Temple record this.
The stone inscription in the Kuruvithurai Perumal Temple. Photo: Special Arrangement
In the olden days, exclusive groups were constituted for the upkeep of the water bodies. These were theyeri variyam (lake board) and kalingu variyam (sluice board). According to B. Thirumalai and R. Sivakumar, authors of ‘Vaiyai Thadam Thedi’, the landmark ruling of Sri Vallabha Pandiyan, who established the riparian rights of the lower ayacut farmers, is remembered even today. “The case of a landlord cutting off the main channel by digging a channel upstream and depriving farmers of the lower areas was brought to the King,” says Sivakumar.
“The practice of creating a water body to help people has been there for ages,” says C. Santhalingam. Secretary, Pandya Nadu Centre for Historical Research. Tamil Brahmi inscriptions recovered from Nadumuthalaikulam near Vikkramangalam give evidence of existence of a 2000-year-old man-made lake. “Kings created water bodies and collected land tax from people. Pallavas constructed lakes across their kingdom and named the lakes after them. Some of the man-made lakes are Chithiramega Thadagam and Vairamega Thadagam,” he says.
There were also several lakes like the Thoosi Mamandoor Yeri near Kanchipuram, the biggest of the lot. “The rulers did not end with that. They appointed guards to stop people from polluting and created a corpus fund for the maintenance of the water body. The board used the money to desilt the lake and to distribute food and clothes for victims of floods. They also let the lake on contract for fishing and for ferrying people on coracles to generate funds. Many rich people also donated liberally,” he says.
“For effective distribution there are different types of sluice gates like Pulikan madai (which has three outlets). Depending upon the storage the water is released through these outlets. The one with seven outlets is located near Srivilliputhur. It is constructed by the Koon Pandiyan and to control the flow a pillar is erected at the centre of the main sluice gate,” he says.
Lakes were given much importance in those days. They were quoted in Sangam literature to identify the geographical division of that place, like the Madakulakeezh which refers to the land irrigated by the Madakulam Lake.
“Predominantly an agrarian community dependent on water source, our ancestors knew the importance of conserving water. They were farsighted, sensitive to environmental issues and better equipped than the current times,” concludes Santhalingam.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Features> MetroPlus / by T. Saravanan / Madurai – March 04th, 2015
At a quiz I conducted recently, one of my questions was: What were the railway companies that were combined to create the Southern Railway in April 1951? The majority of answers recorded South Indian Railway (SIR) and did not proceed further. A few put down Madras Railway Co and SIR. Still fewer said Madras & South Mahratta Railway and South Indian Railway. And only one person got it right saying Madras & South Mahratta Railway, South Indian Railway and Mysore State Railway. I recalled these answers a few days later when, thanks to new traffic regulations, I saw the Egmore Station after a few years and found it looking as handsome as one of a city’s prime heritage buildings should look.
Egmore Railway Station today.
Purist conservationists will undoubtedly sniff at what red and white colour washes have done to the building’s red brick, Tada sandstone and Pallavaram granite. But I have always held that they should be thankful for little mercies; after the latest ‘restoration’, many a layperson or a visitor is sure to stand and stare for a while at a building which stands out midst all the tawdry construction surrounding it. Certainly I did — and as I did so I wondered what the answers would be to another quiz question: The South Indian Railway had five stations in Madras; what were the three main ones? I wonder how many would have got Tambaram, Egmore and Beach. Egmore may have been the main Madras SIR station, but Beach was the end of the line and Tambaram and Beach were the two termini of the SIR’s electrified suburban railway system established in 1931 and which in its very first year handled nearly three million passengers.
Trichy Junction in 1935
The SIR’s main railway station, however, was in Trichinopoly, where its headquarters was. The first SIR headquarters was in Negapatam (Nagapattinam) from where its first train ran to Tiruvallur on July 15, 1861, then in December that year to Tanjore and on March 11, 1862 to Trichinopoly to which the headquarters began moving from 1865 and went on till 1880. Remodelling of the old station began in 1900 and went on till 1935, T. Samyanada Pillai of Bangalore responsible for the work. Pillai, based on his splendid work in Trichinopoly, was given the contract for building the Egmore Station we see today. Work began on it in 1905 and it opened for use on June 11, 1908. The station was designed by Henry Irwin, with specialised engineering work being carried out by Arbuthnot’s Industrials and the entire supervision being done by SIR’s company architect E.C.H. Bird.
Beach Station interior (1929)
Handsome stations were also built at Beach (which also received M&SM traffic) and Tambaram befitting their status. That handsomeness can nowhere be seen in these two stations today, given surrounding construction, lack of upkeep and all the grime. They too could use the attention and facelift given to Egmore.
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The houses by the Adyar
The other day I was reminded of a story I had told in these columns some years ago (Miscellany, July 13, 2009) when reading something about the Andhra Mahila Sabha. The Sabha’s nurse-midwife training scheme had to find accommodation for increasing numbers of trainees (120) in the 1950s. The Sabha had put down roots just north of the Adyar River and on the western edge of what is now Durgabai Deshmukh Road — named after the Sabha’s founder — and was then Adyar Bridge Road. Fortunately for the Sabha there was a garden house abutting it to its north, reaching out to the southern edge of Greenway’s Road. The owner was offering the large house and its 171/2 acres for Rs.1.75 lakh. Which the Sabha did not have. But he agreed to rent it at Rs. 500 a month.
When Union Health Minister Rajkumari Amrit Kaur came to inaugurate the children’s ward of the Sabha in 1950, Durgabai Deshmukh told her the problems she was facing with accommodation for the trainees. At the time the trainees were in the rented house, but the Sabha needed to own it to expand further and the owner was not willing to bring down his price. Let’s go and see him, the Minister promptly said. They found him sick and in bed, but overawed when his visitor introduced herself. She told him that she was willing to grant Rs. 1 lakh to the Sabha if they could acquire his premises for that amount. He agreed and Yerolyte came into the Sabha’s hands. The building still stands and is the administrative centre of the Sabha. Next to it has come up a modern hotel run by the Sabha.
Discovering what Yerolyte is the other day is what led to this item. Having discovered what Yerolyte is now being used for, I began to search for information about other garden houses that had come up on the north bank of the Adyar. To the east of Elphinstone Bridge, now supplemented by Thiru-Vi-Ka Bridge, are Brodie Castle dating to 1798, at present home to the Tamil Nadu Government College of Music, Underwood Gardens, now the residence of the Regional Manager of the State Bank of India, andSomerford that’s been incorporated into Chettinad Palace.
To the west of the Bridge, going west from the Adyar, the first block of buildings comprises, from river inland, Bridge House, Government property which I think has now been replaced with a newer building,Cranleigh, named after an English village in Surrey which has been replaced by the Andhra Mahila Sabha Hospital, and Yerolyte. The next block west once comprised Riverside, Hovingham, Greenway, Cherwell and Ardmayle, the three aside from Riverside and Greenway probably taking their names from villages in Yorkshire, Oxfordshire and Tipperary (Ireland) respectively, all no longer in existence and replaced by Government bungalows for Ministers. The next block includes Adyar House, used as a Police commando training centre (a glimpse into which shows an old building, possibly the original house), Beachborough, named after a hamlet in Kent, a house now built over it, and Ben’s Gardens, once leased to Parry’s by the Diocese of Madras-Mylapore and where Parry’s built a few more houses for its Directors. Then come, Serle’s Garden, no longer in existence, like neighbouring Pugh’s Garden. Still surviving, however, is what was Norton’s Garden (1853), built by the lawyer John Bruce Norton, and which c.1907 was re-named The Grange. With a Government management training institution in it,The Grange is fairly well maintained, but could take lessons from the last building on this stretch,Moubray’s Garden/Cupola (c.1790), and the first modern house to be built on the banks of the Adyar. Today it is beautifully maintained by its owner, the Madras Club.
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The tank that vanished
Was there a huge tank in the middle of Madras that has vanished, asks schoolgirl S Prema who tells me that she is interested in the environment. Yes, indeed, there was a tank called the Long Tank which once stretched about 6 km from the Adyar River to Loyola College, following the western side of Mount Road and Nungambakkam High Road. Reminders of it are found in such names as Lake Area and Tank Bund Road. It was in reality two tanks, the Mambalam/ Mylapore Tank in the north and the Nungambakkam Tank in the south, and spread through parts of Saidapet, Mambalam, Nandanam, T. Nagar and Nungambakkam.
To meet the demands of a growing population, plans were drawn up from 1923 to reclaim land from the Long Tank and this was done from 1930 to create the 1,600 acres for the Mambalam Housing Scheme that gave us Theagaroya Nagar or T. Nagar. From 1941, further reclamation gave us the Lake Area in Nungambakkam. At the westernmost end of the Tank, 54 acres were reclaimed earlier for the Loyola College campus and in 1974 what was left of the Tank was reclaimed to give the city the Valluvar Kottam campus alongside Tank Bund Road.
Map showing the Long Tank
Once, when the Long Tank had water for most of the year, it was home to the Madras Boat Club’s activities. In fact, there was a Long Tank Regatta. It’s first recorded in 1893 that this was held “on the fine expanse of water that starts from the Cathedral Corner (once where Gemini Studio’s property was) to Sydapet”. Till any kind of boathouse was built by the Long Tank, the Club used the spacious premises of Blacker’s Gardens — kindly lent for the occasions by whoever the occupant was at the time. The Club’s first Boathouse, a temporary one, was inaugurated on December 5, 1896 and a permanent one in 1899. The Tank also hosted sailing events, the Boat Club at that time also nurturing yachting.
The earliest record of competitive rowing dates to November 21, 1875, ‘Scratch Fours’ races being held in the Long Tank. The first regatta held there was on February 4, 1884 on a course that was about half a mile. These continued till 1904, by when the Club had firmly put down roots in its present home in Adyar. The Long Tank, however, continued to be used by some oarsmen till work on reclaiming land began in the late 1920s.
There would be 200-300 “ladies and gentlemen (present, representing) the fashion and beauty of Madras,” as well as the Governor and his Lady and their retinue, the Band that would play through the evening and night, refreshments aplenty, and dinner and dancing. Now where their ghosts waltzed, there is no tank, only a congested clutter of buildings just as what you’ll see where the other important tanks of the city were. Once, the ten most important tanks of Madras were Vyasarpadi, Perambur, Peravallur, Madavakkam, Chetput, Spur, Nungambakkam, Mylapore/Mambalam, Kottur and Kalikundram. None of them exist in today’s concrete jungle.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Features> MetroPlus / by S. Muthiah / March 01st, 2015
Satyajit Ray astonished me at our first meeting. I had trotted out various Santiniketan connections I expected him to know. He looked at me for a moment while I felt his brain darting through the lanes and bylanes of the genealogical network. Then he said, “You must be related to Bussa Susheila Das!” It was the last name I expected to hear from the Maestro. Bussamami – whose death last week, three years short of a century, must be counted a merciful release – was the most fashionable, Anglicized and probably richest of my relatives. In georgette and furs, sporting a long cigarette-holder, she was a vision of elegant grandeur, the Last Burra Memsahib. When I told her about Ray, she said, “It must be because of Keshub Sen!”
If so, the Brahmo Samaj meant more to Ray than anyone imagined. Although neither Bussamami nor her husband, Mohie R. Das, had set foot in a Brahmo temple for many years, she was Brahmananda Keshub Chunder Sen’s great granddaughter. She was also the great granddaughter of General Sir Edward Barnes, India’s commander-in-chief and governor of Ceylon. That connection was embarrassingly highlighted when Bussamami stayed with us in Singapore. On the day she arrived, the afternoon tabloid, New Paper, which normally confined itself to sensational local tidbits, went to town with an unexpected cover story on Barnes and his Ceylonese mistress. As governor, he lived in what is today Colombo’s Mount Lavinia Hotel from which a secret underground tunnel snaked away to his inamorata’s dwelling. Bussamami wasn’t disconcerted.
She had flown in wearing a saree. It was her habitual garb when travelling abroad she explained. “I get better service.” At one time people laughingly called her “Susheila please!” because of her strenuous but unsuccessful efforts to banish the Bussa nickname. She was indignant when a British Indian woman in Singapore asked why she didn’t have a British passport. “Why should I?” she retorted. “India is my home. I’m Indian. I have property there.” The patrial clause in British immigration law would at once have granted her British citizenship. But people like her didn’t need to emigrate to raise their living standards or become Westernized. They easily did both in India. Her sister, Moneesha Chaudhuri, whose husband was the first Indian head of Andrew Yule, the biggest British managing agency in India, and an army chief’s brother, was also like that. She once refused the then whites-only Saturday Club’s invitation to play the piano in a concert under her English mother’s maiden name. “After all, you could pass for English,” they pleaded. She didn’t take it as a compliment.
Singaporeans found it intriguing that Bussamami and I were related twice over. She and my mother were second cousins, great granddaughters of Annada Charan Khastagir, who presided over an All-India National Conference session in 1883, preparatory to the Indian National Congress being launched two years later. Her husband, Mohiemama, and my mother were first cousins, grandchildren of Bihari Lal Gupta, who was responsible for the Ilbert Bill, which led to the AINC and INC. She and her husband being related, the marriage presented difficulties: one version for which I can’t vouch was they went to French Chandernagore for the registration.
Mohiemama’s father, S.R. Das, founded Doon School. He himself was the first Indian head of Mackinnon Mackenzie, the Inchcape shipping giant. When he joined Mackinnon’s exalted band of covenanted hands (UK-based officers who had signed a contract with the company) in England, the Numbers One, Two and Three were known in inverse order as Three, Two and One. Those figures indicated their monthly salary in lakhs of rupees. Mohiemama’s ways were upper-class English, the legacy of public school in Britain and Cambridge. My son, Deep, quoted Bussamami in this newspaper (“Learning To Speak Like The Masters”, October 13, 2004) as saying when asked if her husband went to Mill Hill or Millfield school, “Mill Hill of course. Millfield was only for the post-war nouveau riche!” Being dark and heavily built, he borrowed a turban from Maharaja Sawai Man Singh II of Jaipur – husband of the beautiful Gayatri Devi, who was Bussamami’s cousin – to visit America in the Fifties. He enjoyed describing how he clamped the turban on his head before entering restaurants in the American Deep South.
They settled down in a gracious villa called Faraway in remote Coonoor. But their world straddled Calcutta, Darjeeling, Hong Kong, London and the south of France. Or rather, small gilded niches in all these places, with extensions to Simla, Colombo and Singapore. World War II and the 300 Club had lent zest to their cosmopolitan set. Not everyone could come to grips with this dizzy diversity. Raj Thapar, wife of Seminar magazine’s Romesh Thapar, betrayed her own provincialism by dismissing Bussamami in All These Years as “an erstwhile crooner”. Yes, she, Moneeshamashi and their only brother K.C. (Bhaiya or Kacy) Sen were all gifted musicians. In her youth, Bussamami had indeed given music lessons in Calcutta, and Moneeshamashi continued to do so for free at St Paul’s School, Darjeeling. But the sleaziness that Thapar’s comment sought to convey just didn’t go with the Ingabanga (Satyendranath Tagore’s term for Anglicized Bengalis) elite.
Kacy called his delightful memoirs The Absolute Anglo-Indian. He wasn’t “a person whose father or any of whose other male progenitors in the male line is or was of European descent, but who is a native of India”, which is how the Government of India Act, 1935, defines Anglo-Indian. Nevertheless, his was the culture of the Rangers Club, Grail Club and the club of which he says “if ever there was a place that separated the men from the boys, and no angels feared to tread, it was the good old Golden Slipper”. I was struck as a child by his imaginative wedding invitation, “Bridgette and I are going to be married at the Golden Slipper Club.” His Cavaliers was a popular band. He frequently compered at the Oberoi Grand Hotel’s open-air Scherezade night club, which occupied the space now taken up by the swimming pool.
He provided Ray with Devika Halder aka Vicky Redwood for Mahanagar “over a cup of tea on the verandah” of his flat. The voice off-screen in Mahanagar was Devika’s, but the song was a ballad, Time Gave Me No Chance, he had composed in his rowing days. Major Sharat Kumar Roy of the American army was an unusual wartime buddy and surely the only Indian to be commemorated by a mountain in Greenland: he discovered Mount Sharat. Laced into the light-hearted banter of Sen’s memoirs was the fear that the “Absolute Anglo-Indian” would become the “Obsolete Anglo-Indian”.
Bussamami built personal bridges to very different milieus. Cooch Behar, Mayurbhanj, Jaipur, Nandgaon and other royals, some also descendants of Keshub Sen, were relatives and intimates. When I mentioned the novelist, Maurice Dekobra, she told me she had known him as the Paris-born, Maurice Tessier. Axel Khan, whom I met as India’s ambassador in pre-unification Berlin, was another old friend. Rumer Godden produced a flood of memories, which were borne out by Ann Chisholm’s biography, Rumer Godden: A Storyteller’s Life. Her apology for arriving late for dinner with my wife and I in our Calcutta flat was that she had got lost in the suburban lanes to Kanan’s house. Kanan who? She meant the legendary star, Kanan Devi, whom the young Bussamami had taught her dancing steps in the Thirties. They had remained friends ever since.
The real burra memsahib didn’t need to keep up appearances. Neither did she have to try to be stylish. To adapt the Comte de Buffon, the style was the woman herself. There won’t be another like her.
source: http://www.telegraphindia.com / The Telegraph, Calcutta / Front Page> Story / by Sunanda K. Datta-Ray / Saturday – February 28th, 2015
