Marking the completion of 160 years of the Indian Railways, the Madurai railway division has organised a photo exhibition with a set of 28 posters narrating the history, heritage and salient features. The exhibition, which began on Sunday will go up to April 2 and is arranged at the concourse area of the eastern entry.
Addressing reporters, divisional railway manager, A K Rastogi who inaugurated the exhibition said the photo exhibition showcases the evolution and growth of the Indian Railways from 1853. The exhibition is divided into topics such as interesting information on Indian Railways; evolution and heritage; cultural significance and the resources displaying its indigenous production units which keep the railways self-sufficient among others.
The segment of interesting facts contains information like 11,000 trains plying across the country on any given day carrying 2.20 crore people. With 63,940 km track route, it is the fourth largest in the world connecting people across the country as well as the backbone of the economic growth.
The heritage and evolution part shows the picture of the first train that chugged between Bombay and Thane – the 34 km stretch – in 1853 and its earlier versions of coaches hauled by bullocks. The consecutive pictures show how the railways transformed from steam engines to electric locomotives at present.
The pictures under the title Railways connecting cultures, show that how the tracks traverse across the cultures in the country with a special mention of Vivek Express, the longest train connecting Kanyakumari with Dibrugarh in Assam. The train covering 4,200 km connects Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Andhra Pradesh, Orissa, West Bengal, Bihar and Assam in its 82-hour journey.
The heritage section also includes luxury trains such as Palace on Wheels, Golden Chariot and the Deccan Odyssey. The last segment of the exhibition displays the assets of railways like Chittaranjan Locomotive Works (CLW), Diesel Locomotive Works, Varanasi (DLW), Integral Coach Factory (ICF) Chennai, Rail Coach Factory (RCF) Kapurthala and Rail Wheel Factory (RWF), Bangalore.
One of the pictures shows the international collaborations of Indian Railways at Tanzania, Iraq, Sri Lanka and Mozambique and the export of locomotives to countries like Vietnam, Tanzania, Mali, Senegal, Togo and Sri .
The exhibition is open from 8.30am to 6pm and entry for the visitors is free.
source: http://www.timesofindia.indiatimes.com / The Times of India / Home> City> Madurai / TNN / March 31st, 2014
In his heyday, Mr. Evers also remembers being the master of ceremonies at a function in Thiruvayaru, considered the birthplace of Carnatic music./ Photo: R.M. Rajarathinam / The Hindu
George Evers has been the anchor at hundreds of Anglo-Indian weddings and social events since the 1960s. He tells Nahla Nainar how he became an accidental emcee
No Anglo-Indian wedding or social gathering in Tiruchi has been complete without George Evers as the master of ceremonies. Despite emceeing nearly 900 weddings however, Mr. Evers is hesitant to call it a profession.
“Emceeing came accidentally into my life,” says Mr. Evers, 77, as his dog Molly and wife Doreen give him company at their home in Karumandapam. The then-Southern Railways clerk was asked to take over as master of ceremonies from a colleague who had emigrated to England in 1962, and since then, has been “stuck into it,” till as recently as 2014’s New Year party.
“Even now, when I say I’ve gone too old, people want me to host their functions. I have emceed functions of several generations of families, mainly as a friendly gesture. I can’t call it a profession as such, because I didn’t really earn money from it. After I stopped working in 1995, people began to think that ‘Uncle has retired, maybe he requires some money,’ and they’d pay me something. But all along, I’ve never quoted any rate for my work,” says Mr. Evers.
In his heyday, Mr. Evers also remembers being the master of ceremonies at a function in Thiruvayaru, considered the birthplace of Carnatic music. “My main advantage was that I could sing with the orchestra. Whenever the band boys would run out of songs, for the Railway Institute’s ballroom dances for instance, I’d take the microphone and belt out a few numbers to keep the patrons happy,” he says.
Busy calendar
Working in the Railways let him keep up his alternative job as his rail-pass helped out in the commuting. “Sometimes, I used to be sent conveyance, but mostly I’d just hop on and off the trains – I’ve been to functions in Madurai, Erode, Villipuram, Nagapattinam and so many other places. I made a lot of friends during these occasions. I really enjoyed what I did, and of course, it was because my wife was very co-operative. Doreen sacrificed a lot to just let me do this.”
Such was his popularity that Mr. Evers was persuaded to return as an emcee after a stroke in 2004 paralysed the left side of his body for over a year. “I don’t think I’ll be up to it this year, because my eyesight has weakened,” he rues.
Nostalgia
Mr. Evers grows nostalgic when he speaks of his childhood, as the ninth born of a family of five boys and five girls. “My father Isaac Martin Evers was a railway guard. He had no knowledge of his parents, but my Dad did tell me he studied in Adyar (Chennai) at St. Patrick’s convent school. My mother’s father was Irish,” says Mr. Evers.
The young George Evers started kindergarten at the Madurai Railway School, and then, when his father retired in 1944, the clan shifted to Mannarpuram, Tiruchi. “Since 1944, I had my schooling in Campion (Anglo-Indian Higher Secondary School) and finished Matriculation in 1954,” he says. “I joined the Railways in 1957 as a commercial clerk, with my first posting at Dhanushkodi.”
Mr. Evers shifted back to Tiruchi after marriage to Doreen, his neighbour in Mannarpuram, in 1962 and has stayed on here since then.
The memories that the couple share of Tiruchi hearken back to a time when there were few automobiles on the roads. “Most of the children used to walk to school, Campion for the boys and St. Joseph’s convent for the girls,” says Mr. Evers. “Some boys used to even walk all the way from Golden Rock (Ponmalai) if they had missed the 8.30 a.m. Students’ Special train. It was good, kept us healthy. Besides, there were no buses or cars crowding the roads then. Motorbikes were still rare, and owning a bicycle was a luxury,” he adds.
“My parents put us boys in boarding at Campion because they felt it would make us independent and disciplined,” says Mr. Evers.
At home, the lifestyle had an Indian flavour with a Western finish. “We’d have dosai and chutney for breakfast, but bread, butter and jam was always there on the table,” recalls Mr. Evers.
“Our Western culture and our fluency in English helped Anglo-Indians secure jobs in the Railways, Customs and Telephone departments,” says Mr. Evers. “But as the years go by, I feel our community has become more Indian. After all, if you are going to live in Tamil Nadu, you’ve got be a Tamilian, you can’t live like a Britisher.”
As in the case of many Anglo-Indian families, inter-racial marriages have become common. “Even within my own family, my daughters-in-law are Tamilian,” says Mr. Evers. “We don’t have the custom of arranging marriages in our community. In my case, my mother and father had nothing to do with our marriage. I had seen Doreen and fallen in love with her and we had to get permission from her parents to get married. Our parents just set the date,” says Mr. Evers with a twinkle in his eye.
The days ahead
The abolition of job quotas for the Anglo-Indians in the 1960s led to an exodus that continues today. “In Tiruchi, I think around 3000-4000 families have stayed on, though many people left for United Kingdom and Australia in the 1970s and ’80s,” says Mr. Evers, who is a member of both the Campion Old Boys Association, Melbourne and All India Anglo Indian Association.
“We never used to get huge salaries like today,” says Mr. Evers, adding that he was earning Rs. 2500 when he retired. “But we were able to keep the wolf from the door, because the commodities were not so costly then.”
The Evers have six children (five sons of whom the eldest passed away in 2001 and a daughter), and six grandchildren. So would Mr. Evers be doing the honours as emcee at his grandchildren’s weddings?
“If God spares us,” laughs Mrs. Doreen as her husband smiles at the suggestion.
Dancing the nights away
Mr. George Evers on how dance has defined Anglo-Indian social life in Tiruchi
“The Railway Institute the Head Post Office was converted by Europeans into a dance hall. They used to have regular dances there, with live band on stage.
“To know how to dance became part of the culture. And if you didn’t know how to dance, there was no point in going to the Railway Institute, because you’d just have to sit down.
“There used to be many styles of dancing – slow fox trot, fox trot, waltz, rock and roll – all that used to be called ballroom dancing.
“People don’t patronise Western dance now like they used to, even during the festive season. Another main reason is that the children have to go back to school on January 2, which makes it tough for parents who want to dance away the night on New Year’s Day. They can’t stay up late and then rush to get the children ready for school the next day.
“This New Year’s ball was very disappointing. In 1967, there used to be no less than 800 people in the hall, and there would be at least 300-400 couples on the floor, dancing. But on the first of this year, there were only four-five couples on the floor.
“In those days they’d dance till six in the morning, and even when I’d tell them to go home, they’ll plead ‘one more song’, ‘one more song’. So I came up with a solution: I’d tell the band boys to play the national anthem!
“Everybody would stand to attention, and couldn’t ask for more. That became my signature closing tradition.”
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Features> MetroPlus> Society / by Nahla Nainar / Tiruchirapalli – April 05th, 2014
The CEG Tech Forum has brought out a book that relies on archives, old college magazines and alumnus’ memories
Robert Bruce Foote, considered the father of Indian prehistory, delivered lectures on geology in 1861 and 1862 here, and as far back as 1938, students designed an automatic dosa machine which became hugely popular.
‘College of Engineering, Guindy – A journey through time 1794-2014’, a book brought out by the CEG Tech Forum, relies as much on archives, old college magazines and newspaper cuttings as it does on its alumnus’ memories to reconstruct a 220-year-old eventful journey.
From black-and-white photographs of the materials and telecommunications laboratories to the changing logos, the book not only traces the origins of the institution that started as a Survey School in Fort St. George, but is also a compendium of interesting nuggets and insights into its evolution.
From student elections to canteen menus, from its architecture to the establishment of various departments, the book not only attempts a chronological account of the oldest technical institute in the country, but also offers glimpses of a vibrant campus life.
For instance, it describes how a transport committee was formed in college to ferry students from Saidapet and Mambalam to its campus. “There was a 26-seater Ford V-8, a 16-seater Morris van and an eight-seater Morris car that belonged to the college. The cost was three Annas per mile for the van, and four for the car,” the book notes.
It chronicles the repercussions of the Great Depression on engineers here. It also delves into the transformation of the institution from a predominantly European institute to an Indian one, its contribution to the city and its infrastructure, as well as the developments in recent years.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Chennai / by Asha Sridhar / Chennai – April 10th, 2014
Workers deployed to clean an 85feet-deep well on the boundary of Kurichi Tank were in for a total surprise when they spotted a Panchaloha idol among the debris and silt that was being removed from the spot. The workers were deployed to clean and remove debris from the well before a pipeline was laid to supply well water to Kurichi residents to tide over summer scarcity. They were in for a bigger surprise when not only an idol but also a motorcycle was recovered from the debris.
The workers had noticed a portion of a two wheeler handle jutting out of the silt yesterday but did not realise that a whole motorcycle could be lying inside the well.
“Initially, nobody realised that it was a goddess idol as we thought it was some discarded metal piece but then when my workers realised it was an idol we were taken aback,” said R Manickam, private contractor in charge of cleaning the well.
The idol is a Panchaloha idol of a feminine deity. Both the idol and the vehicle were retrieved from the well and handed over to revenue and police department officials. Police and revenue department officials were notified as the well is situated on land under the ownership of Public Works Department (PWD).
“We were informed and have taken custody of the idol which will be now examined by experts from the archaeological department for more details to confirm its age and value,” said K Karpagam, district revenue officer, Coimbatore.
According to South Zone chairman of corporation, M Perumalsamy, the Panchaloha idol could be an antique as it had an inscription saying ‘Pu Subbannan Chettiyar Kainkaryam’ on its base. The archaeological experts are expected to examine the idol on Tuesday.
“It is quite heavy and weighs around 15 to 20 kg. It looked really old. The well is about 85ft deep and we have six feet of slush in it ,” said Perumalsamy.
The well, more than 20 years old, was earlier used to supply water to residents of Kurichi before it came under Coimbatore corporation limits. The proposal to use it to supply water was recently taken up to tide over the water crisis in summer. The green motorcycle has a number plate attached to it with registration number ‘TN37AH170’. The rear wheel of the vehicle is missing. It could have been dumped inside the well as it was lying open and was covered with iron grills about three months ago. The motorcycle is presently in the custody of Podanur police here in the city.
“A man had committed suicide about three months ago in the well and that is why it was decided to cover it,” Perumalsamy added.
source: http://www.timesofindia.indiatimes.com / The Times of India / Home> City> Coimbatore / by Binoy Valsan, TNN / April 01st, 2014
A large number of ancient copper plates, coins and nails, totally weighing 90 kg, have been unearthed from the premises of Lord Amirthakadeswara temple at Tirukkadaiyur near Porayar in Nagapattinam district, Archaeological Department sources said today.
The treasures were found in a pot recently by the those engaged in construction work which was progressing in the northern part of the outer of pragaram of the temple. They found the pot at a depth of about four-and-half feet and immediately informed the temple authorities.
Tarangambadi Tahsildar Azhagirisamy said the pot contained about 90 kg of copper articles, including plates, coins and nails.
The copper plates measured about 30 cm long and 30 cm wide. The plates, numbering a few hundreds, contained light green painting. They did not have any inscriptions. The coins are very small and contain inscriptions. The nails are sharp and small in size. The huge pot was in a damaged condition, Archaeological Department sources said.
Informations to which era the articles belonged would be known only after detailed study, they said.
Amirthakadeswara temple is among the ancient temples in Tamil Nadu. Though it is not exactly known when the temple was constructed, inscriptions at the temple state that it was during the period of Kulothunga Chola I (1075-1120 A.D) that the temple was renovated with stone walls.
source: http://www.business-standard.com / Business Standard / Home> PTI Stories> National> News / Press Trust of India / Nagapattinam (TN) – March 19th, 2014
One of the earliest hero-stones, of the Pandya country found in March 2014 in Tuticorin district. / Photo: G. Paul Durai / The Hindu
One of the earliest hero-stones of Pandya country, with Tamil vatteluttu script datable to eighth century CE, has been found in a village called Vellalankottai in Tuticorin district, Tamil Nadu. It was erected in the memory of father and son who killed a tiger. The hero-stone has the carvings of the father and son, standing on either side of the tiger armed with weapons. There is a three-line inscription in Tamil vatteluttu above the figures. G. Paul Durai, research scholar, Department of History, Pondicherry University, found the hero-stone at Vellalankottai on the Kayattar-Kazhugumalai Road, about eight km from Kayattar.
The 2.5-feet tall hero-stone is locally called kaduvakkal meaning a “tiger stone.” The script reads “Peruraaliyar Sentan-Kannan Kannan-Kovanun thozha-i-puli kalaaitu-p-pattar (the two heroes, Senthan Kannan and his son Kannan Kovan, residents of Peruraali village, killed the tiger). Epigraphists S. Rajagopal, C. Santhalingam and R. Pungundran helped in deciphering the inscription.
“This is one of the earliest hero-stones of the Pandya Naadu, with vatteluttu script. The Peruraali village mentioned in the inscription is probably the Perali located near Virudhunagar. Such stones erected to celebrate heroes who killed tigers have been found at Mottakkal in the Chengam region” in northern Tamil Nadu, said K. Rajan, Professor of History, Pondicherry University.
Dr. Rajan, who explained the origin of hero-stones, said erecting memorial stones was a custom in south India since the Iron Age (circa 1000 BCE to circa 600 BCE). Tamil Nadu witnessed a proliferation of such monuments during the Iron Age. These monuments included menhirs. (Menhirsare tall, majestic monolithic stone slabs planted in memory of the dead).
Hero-stones with Tamil-Brahmi script of the fourth century BCE, said Dr. Rajan, have been found at Pulimaankombai and Thathapatti villages, near Batlagundu town. “However, memorial stones are more visible in the Dharmapuri and Chengam regions from fifth century CE,” he added.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> National> TamilNadu / by T. S. Subramanian / Chennai – March 30th, 2014
Temple Trips, South India, a travel guide by Janaki Venkataraman (seen in picture) and Supriya Sehgal, was launched on Friday. / Photo: K.V. Srinivasan / The Hindu
Kapaleeshwarar temple is world-renowned, and yet few are aware of an inscription beside the main door which has references to Chinese and Greek travellers having visited the temple.
The idol of the presiding deity at Parthasarathy Temple, Triplicane, has a moustache, but does not bear any weapons, a distinguishing feature from other Vaishnavite temples.
Such details, often not spotted by the casual visitor, are among the many interesting facts brought out in Temple Trips, South India, a travel guide launched by Lonely Planet on Friday. It is the culmination of several months of temple visits and meticulous research by authors Janaki Venkataraman and Supriya Sehgal.
Launching the book, N. Ravi, editor-in-chief, The Hindu, said south Indian temples were a treasure house of “Indian religious, artistic and cultural heritage.” Stating the book was rich in content and offered information to those not familiar with the religion and its traditions, Mr. Ravi added that with the launch of the book, a new sphere of temple tourism of south India was opened up by Lonely Planet.
Sesh Seshadri, director and general manager, Lonely Planet India, said the book offered specific information on hotels, transport, accommodation and the region’s cuisine. It also has special features by Carnatic musician T.M. Krishna, Bharatanatyam exponent Alarmel Valli, temple historian Pradeep Chakravarthy, architectural expert Chitra Madhavan and journalist Nalini Rajan.
Prior to the book launch, there was a rendition of songs associated with temples of the four southern States by Vijayalakshmi Subramaniam.
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Chennai / by Special Correspondent / Chennai – March 29th, 2014
Anglo-Indians in the city gathered on Friday to celebrate their culture with the launch of a book titled Contemporary Facets of the Anglo-Indian Community.
Written by Geoffrey Kenneth Francis, the former principal of A M Jain College, the book is a chronicle of the Anglo-Indian community’s history in India, the formation of the Anglo-Indian Association and remarkable moments in history, cultural, social and economic issues of the community, and case studies of certain members of the community
“It is basically a SWOT analysis of our community. I hope it will make other people, especially the government, realise that we are a unique community that does not get any support,” said the author. “Many Anglo-Indians have emigrated abroad but our future and strength lies in allegiance and commitment here in India,” he added.
The book was released by Bishop Prakash, chairman, State Minorities Commission, and the first copy was received by historian S Muthiah.
Drawing comparisons with his community, the Naatu Kottai Chettiars and the Anglo-Indian community, S Muthiah appreciated the progress in education achieved by both the communities. “We no longer have to become secretaries and nurses or look to the railways for jobs because education can empower our communities to achieve greater heights,” he said.
Bishop Prakash appreciated the work of the author and said that he would present a copy of the book to the Chief Minister as it provided a great insight into the history and culture of Anglo-Indians. Eminent persons from the Anglo-Indian Community, including Oscar Negley, former MLA, were also present during the book launch.
source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> Cities> Chennai / by Express News Service – Chennai / March 11th, 2014
It’s the holy hill, the miniature mount of miracles, the anchor you rely on when adrift in foggy doubt. Close to two thousand years ago an apostle was martyred on its summit, his gore reddening the soil. On the western outskirts of the city of Chennai (formerly Madras) on the southeastern coast of India, the hill called St. Thomas’ Mount juts up 300 feet above the sea level. The city’s airport lies just beyond the hill and, depending on the time of day and the flight path, one can get an aerial glimpse of the hill from within an aircraft landing or taking off, just as one can watch planes land and take off from atop the hill. But the hill looks so ordinary, so nondescript, that passers-by on the ground or travelers in the air scarcely give it a glance.
The hill was once wooded but today, as I trudge up the stone steps, I see bedraggled vegetation fighting valiantly to root and thrive in those few parts that are not built up with houses. Construction is in progress; newer buildings are sprouting up like kudzu along the slopes. The climb is a test of stamina; I find myself breathing strenuously and I am only a third of the way to the top. But there are convenient ledges running alongside the steps where I can sit, regain my breath. Brick-paved terraces interrupt the steps at intervals. There is the occasional flat, gray stone slab embedded in the ground, almost flush with the surface. Some bear elaborate inscriptions in Armenian. The people in the church on the hill, let alone the visitors, have little idea of what these inscriptions mean.If stones could speak, I would engage them in spirited conversation, and their answers could shed light on many things. There is much that is mysterious on this hill.The Apostle Thomas is believed to have been martyred on the summit of this hill, hence the name St. Thomas’ Mount. Thomas (the “Doubting Thomas” of the New Testament) is believed to have travelled to Northern India following Christ’s crucifixion, then by sea to Malabar (present-day Kerala) on India’s southwestern coast where he landed in AD 52, and then across the land to the opposite coast where he lived and preached until his martyrdom on the mount in AD 68 (or AD 72, depending on which historical account you buy into) where he was speared to death by an emissary of the local Hindu king while he knelt in prayer before a cross he had carved into the rock. More about this cross later.The mount subsequently became a place for pilgrimage, albeit one that tested the pilgrims’ faith and resolve for they had to surmount rock and brush and clamber across slippery slopes covered with loose, treacherous gravel. In the early 18th century, an Armenian merchant and philanthropist, Khojah Petrus Woscan, hewed out a flight of 135 steps on the wild and woody northern side of the hill. Woscan also built a bridge across the nearby Adyar River to further help pilgrims, who now no longer struggled to ford the river. People came from afar to the Mount in larger numbers now – but they always had, steps or no steps. A Latin medieval text suggests that in the 9th century King Alfred the Great of England sent an embassy to this tomb in India, long before the steps to the summit were in place. Marco Polo also visited the Mount on his travels in India.
Historic picture of St. Thomas Mount, with the steps leading to the church, in the days when the neighbourhood was largely undeveloped.
On the summit of the hill stands a church that is a hybrid of Armenian and Portuguese architecture, both peoples having contributed to its building over periods of time. Its elegance lies in the simplicity of its structure. The cool, black flagstones that pave its floors and its high arched ceilings give welcome relief from the rippling heat waves outside. That this is sacred ground and must be treated as such and not regarded as a picnic spot for romancing couples is highlighted by a sign on a wall: ‘The holiness of this place does not permit the pairs to misuse this place for their merriment.”
As my eyes adjust to the dimmer light, they are drawn to the high stone arch on the ceiling that separates the sanctuary from the nave; on the arch, the name of the church in Portuguese: Senhora da Expectacao (Our Lady of Expectation) is emblazoned. The upper part of the exquisitely ornate white and gold altar has a painting on wood of St. Thomas praying before a cross carved into a boulder. The lower part of the altar has the cross itself, sculpted on a chunk of grey rock. Thomas, so it is said, carved it himself, or at any rate, was speared to death when praying before it, drops of his blood spattering it like rose petals during his death throes.
The cross has an extraordinary reputation. It is said to have “sweated blood” — exuded fluid, which on some occasions was crimson colored — several times between 1551 and 1704, usually an annual event occurring in December. Since 1704, though, the cross has neither “sweated” nor “bled.” Yet the crowds throng to the church in December during the Feast of St. Thomas, eager and enthused, hoping that this will be the year when history repeats itself, and they will be the fortunate ones to bear witness to the miracle that has not recurred for three centuries. Bleeding crosses and other miracles, and angels making divine visitations are all part of being within the church, of accepting its faith. If you are not within the church, then you are outside of it, and have to drift and paddle around on your own. That leaves you vulnerable, unless you have developed your own spiritual muscles. So the throngs come at the Feast of St. Thomas and if the cross remains dry, then they wait with the patience of an elephant as the seasons change and the next anniversary comes around, ready to attend the festival any number of times.
The Bleeding Cross
Yet there are others who doubt that the Bleeding Cross ever bled a drop, or even that Thomas engraved such an elaborate stone carving. And the discovery of several similar carvings in Kerala on the west coast of India raises further questions about whether the attribution to Thomas is true. Scholars have designated these cross carvings in Kerala as the Nasrani Menorah.A cross designated as a menorah? Or vice versa? How could either of this be?To understand this better, we must time-travel to the fourth century AD, and meet Thomas Canneus, also known as Thomas of Cana (Canaan), who changed his faith from Judaism to Christianity. Thomas of Cana landed in Malabar [Kerala] on the west coast of India along and founded the community popularly known as the Syrian Christians. They had other names as well: the Thomman Christians or the Knanaya, that is, Knai’s People (after Knai Thomman, the name for Thomas of Cana in Malayalam, the local language; it also means Thomas the Zealot). In 345 AD, under Thomas’s leadership and with the blessing of Mor Yusthedius, the Patriarch of Antioch, 72 families sailed to India in three ships, the first of which bore the flag of King David. They spoke Syriac, a dialect of Aramaic, hence they were called the Syrian Christians; there is no connection with the present-day nation, Syria. They were also called the Nasrani (a variation of the word Nazarene) to indicate they were Jews who had embraced Christianity and to distinguish them from Jews who were already living in Kerala in a thriving community centered in the town of Cochin.
Painting of Thomas of Cana and a ship supposedly similar to the one he sailed in to India
Converting from one faith to another is not such a facile exercise as is thought. While you might harbour the conviction that the new faith is propelling you towards salvation, can you so easily let go of old customs and relics that comforted you so often and so much down the years? And so the Nasrani designed their cross after the Jewish menorah, the stand of seven candlesticks.
In the Jewish tradition, the central candle is the main candle from which all the others branches are lit. (Interestingly, the Hebrew word for branch is Netzer, the root word for Nazareth and Nazarene – and therefore, also for Nasrani.) The Nasranis converted the middle candlestick of the menorah into an ornate cross, with three candlesticks (or images representing three candlesticks) flanking the cross on either side. These six branches represent God in the form of the burning bush. Flying vertically downward towards the cross is a dove, its beak touching the top of the cross; this represents the Holy Spirit. This menorah-cross is known as the Nasrani Menorah. It is also referred to as the Syrian Kurishu (the Syrian Cross).
The menorah is not the only aspect of Jewish tradition that the Nasrani Syrian Christians have retained. Another tradition that lives on is the partaking of the Pesaha-Appam, or unleavened Passover bread, along with Pesaha-Paalu, or Passover Coconut Milk, often flavored with unrefined brown sugar, ginger, cumin and cardamom. The Nasrani church has separate seating for men and women, and the sanctuary is partitioned off by a thick red drape until about the middle of the Qurbana (the Nasrani Mass). Until the 1970s, the Qurbana was recited in Syriac-Aramaic; the Nasrani baptism is still called by its Syriac name, Mamodisa, and follows many of the original rituals associate with this rite of passage. The Birkat Hamazon is recited after the blessing of the Holy Eucharist, and as a Thanksgiving blessing. Marriages invariably take place within the community.
As noted previously, in Malayalam (the language of Malabar/Kerala), Thomas of Cana became Knai Thomman. Could this community bearing the Thomas name, then, have got mixed up with the Apostle Thomas? The distinctive Nasrani menorah crosses, carved by the early Syrian Christians in Kerala, may have been attributed to the Apostle Thomas, since it is quite possible to get confused with two names that are similar. That would explain how the Nasrani Menorah in the church on St. Thomas Mount, the cross that sweated blood, got linked to St. Thomas though it is unclear how it travelled coast to coast, from Kerala on the southwestern coast to St. Thomas’ Mount on the southeastern.
Could St. Thomas have carved it? The Nasrani menorah is very distinctive; it came to southern India only around 345 AD, whereas St. Thomas was said to be there three centuries earlier, between the years 52 and 68 (or 72) AD. Also, if St. Thomas had carved a symbol during that time, would it have been a cross at all? Scholars say that the cross did not become a symbol of Christianity until sometime in the late second century AD. The cross was a very visible reminder of deliberate torture, suffering and death — a hated and grisly method of public execution, besides being irrevocably associated with the death of beloved Jesus the Christ, the founder of their religion. The early Christians used, not the cross but the Ichthys (Fish Symbol) to represent their faith. Did the Apostle St. Thomas even visit the hill that bears his name?
An unveiled tabernacle of a Knanaya temple, with the Nasrani Menorah in Silver in the foreground on the table and 12 candlestands in the background representing the 12 tribes of Israel. Note the close resemblance between Nasrani Menorah and the Bleeding Cross.
If stones could speak, we could whisper to each of the Nasrani menorahs scattered across Kerala, and to the Bleeding Cross, and they would whisper their stories back to us, tales of hope and fear, of bravery and cowardice, of longing and satisfaction. But as that is not possible, we must wait for historians and scholars to probe back in time to determine the facts, decipher them and solve these puzzles from the past.
Historians and scholars, however, do not always agree with each other both on the authenticity of discoveries or their interpretation. After his martyrdom atop St. Thomas Mount, the remains of the apostle were taken to Edessa in Mesapotamia (modern-day Urfa in Turkey) and interred there. But there is a relic in the church on St. Thomas Mount, a finger bone, purportedly the one that probed the wounds of Christ. Along the way to Edessa, relic seekers seemed to have helped themselves to many of his other bones as well. Roman Catholic records say the Apostle was buried at Ortona in the Abruzzi region of Italy; the Greek Orthodox claim that Thomas’s skull rests on the island of Patmos in the Aegean, but leaves us unclear about where the rest of his body is, and when and why the two were separated. As one commentator put it tongue-in-cheek, if all the bony relics of the apostle that are on display in various churches and museums were collected and assembled, we would end up with one and a half skeletons.
Christians in India take pride that their religious heritage can be traced to a direct disciple of Christ. Pope Benedict XVI caused a lot of angst and heartburn among many Indian Christians when, during his September 27, 2006 speech at the Vatican, he mentioned that St. Thomas evangelized Syria and Persia and then went on to Western India, from where Christianity spread to other parts of India, including the South. In other words, the pontiff seemed to be dismissing the legend that the Apostle Thomas was ever in South India. After the cries of outrage from the Indian Christians, the Vatican took the unusual step of amending the published text of the pope’s speech.
But such doubts have been raised before, even by those in the church hierarchy. In 1729 the Bishop of Madras-Mylapore wrote to the Sacred Congregation of Rites in Rome for clarification about whether the tomb in the San Thome Cathedral of Madras was indeed that of St. Thomas. Rome’s reply was not published. A century later, in 1871 the Roman Catholic authorities at Madras were “strong in disparagement of the special sanctity of the localities [San Thome Cathedral, Little Mount, and St. Thomas Mount, the three areas in Madras associated with St. Thomas Mount] and the whole story connecting St. Thomas with Mailapur.” But in 1886 Pope Leo XIII stated in an apostolic letter that St. Thomas “travelled to Ethiopia, Persia, Hyrcania and finally to the Peninsula beyond the Indus”, and in 1923 Pope Pius XI quoted Pope Leo’s letter and identified St. Thomas with “India”. However, historians note that many ancient writers loosely used the term “India” to refer to several territories east and south of the Roman Empire – including Abyssinia, Mesopotamia, Parthia (Persia/Iran), Arachosia and Gandhara (modern Afghanistan/Pakistan), and parts of Arabia, especially the coastal territories (modern Yemen and Oman).
Historians have neither conclusively proved nor disproved that St. Thomas was ever in southern India. And the stones will not speak.
Each individual experiences two types of hunger, the material and the spiritual, in varying degrees of proportion. The most common pang of spiritual hunger is groping for answers to the eternal questions: Who am I? What am I doing here?
We are born with material and spiritual components, the gross and the ethereal. The material is easy to relate to, but the spiritual is more nebulous. Some see spiritual matters as concerned with our ultimate nature and meaning, not just as biological organisms but as beings with a unique relationship with the spirit that transcends time, space and the material sphere. Others view spirituality as the nurturing and development of one’s inner life.
In a great many minds, the institutionalization of religion is now associated bloodshed, division, incredible cruelty to other people in the name of evangelism or jihad or some other form of crusade, forcible religious conversions, and so on. It also brings images of being punished for sins or erroneous ways, many of which are all too human.
Religion aims to rise and soar above the worldly plane yet organized religions have been continuously seduced by a material focus. Atop St. Thomas Mount, you need permission to photograph the church interiors and the relics, and the granting of the permission is accompanied by a request for a donation. The staff member in charge tries to gauge where you live to suggest a donation amount. Donors are offered a book to sign in (and record the donated amount), and a glance shows that visitors from overseas have donated far larger sums than the locals.
Couples in love! No romancing or partying on these sacred grounds! If you want to date, go elsewhere!
There are two large Hindu temples north and south of St. Thomas Mount: the temple of Lord Venkateswara in Tirupati, and the temple to the Goddess Meenakshi in Madurai. The Tirupati temple is the wealthiest Hindu temple, and reputedly the richest and most visited religious shrine in the world. The Madurai Meenakshi temple is an ancient temple, famed for its stunning architectural complexity. Many such temples that draw crowds of devotees have complex queue systems to make you line up just to flit past the sanctum sanctorum and get a momentary glimpse of the deity.
But Mammon can insinuate his way anywhere, even in houses of worship. So in many temples there is more than one line. There is a line where there is no charge, and there is a line where you need to purchase a ticket. Since the first line is hopelessly long, people purchase tickets. They still have to wait, but for a somewhat shorter time. Then there are the super high-priced tickets that permit you to jump both lines and sneak up first.
Now, material houses of worship do need material means for their maintenance; this is why an offertory basket is passed around at church services. And when there are throngs of hundreds and thousands of pilgrims, there needs to be some sort of regulatory system to maintain order. But the whole notion that paying more money ushers you into the divine presence ahead of those who paid less has something repugnant about it. After all the idol is not God, it is merely an image to remind you of God or of certain aspects of God. For example, some Hindu deities are depicted with multiple heads (God is omniscient) or multiple hands (God is omnipotent). An omniscient, omnipotent God is everywhere, not just restricted to the sanctum sanctorum of the temples, or on the altars of churches or synagogues. If stones could speak, this is what the idols of the deities would say, adding that those that understand this and feel the presence of the divine all the time have no need to lighten their wallets or purses to stand in line for a long time to get a glimpse of an image.
Another view of the same, with the church in the background. The banyan tree alongside the church is reputed to be around 175 yrs old.
In organized religion more attention is paid to the external aspects of religion (the appropriate vestment for priest and bishop, the proper items for a puja ceremony), and to the hierarchy within a religion, or to the rules that govern that particular faith, than to the inner experience of religion itself. A great many cling to the outer trappings. As described earlier, the Knanaya Christians have retained their Jewish traditions to the point they are sometimes even referred to as the Jewish Christians, a term that can raise both eyebrows and hackles in other parts of the world. The throngs at St. Thomas’ Mount firmly believe that the cross will bleed once more, and attribute all kinds of explanations (including the effect of their collective sins, their karma en masse) for why the flow of blood has been stanched for three centuries. Hindus who have been proselytized to Christianity bring their caste baggage with them; once Hindu Nadars and Pillais, now they are Nadar Christians and Pillai Christians, and the old eddies and undercurrents still flow strong though all of them are supposedly One in Christ.
But times have changed and are changing. Whether it is due to the advancement of science and technology and the new ways of thinking that this brings, or whether due to other factors, the wholesale reliance on belief is eroding. In bygone times, belief was the cornerstone of religion. Today, the numbers of people who place emphasis on individual spiritual experience rather than belief is growing. “I’m not religious, but I’m spiritual” — how often have you heard that phrase?
And yet, often it is their religion that has helped to unfold their latent spirituality, and still has repositories of wisdom nuggets buried within its voluminous folds, though sometimes a spirited excavation is required to find them.
If stones could speak, could they tell us the whole story of the two Thomases — the apostle Thomas and the Nasrani Thomas? As the stones at one church may say, “We’ve been resting on this very spot for centuries, and we can tell you what went on here, but you’ll have to travel to other parts of the country and talk to the stones there, and then piece all the information together.”
“All right,” you respond, but the stones then gently remind you that the other stones who might have been witness to significant events may no longer be there, either carted away to other unknown destinations, or simply blown into smithereens by dynamite and bulldozers clearing the land for new development. So many stones, blown up into enough silicon dust to fill up a valley, indeed, many valleys, taking with them all their collective memories.
“But why,” one of the older, wiser stones may ask, “do you want to know this? What real difference will it make? If you can trace your faith lineage down the byzantine alleyways of history to St. Thomas and directly to Christ, does that put you a cut above your fellow Christians who cannot claim such a pedigree? Which religion do you follow — the religion of Jesus the Christ or the religion built around Jesus the Christ?”
People extract meaning from symbols and imagery of religious tradition. In the beginning, this may be useful in helping to focus the distracted mind on the idea the symbol represents. But this is the means, not the end. The ninth-century Chinese Buddhist master Linji Yixuan said, “If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him ….. Then for the first time you will gain emancipation, will not be entangled with things, pass freely anywhere you wish to go.” One can replace Buddha in the quote with Christ or Moses or any other religious figure. What is implied here is that when you convert a spiritual leader into a sacred fetish that then becomes larger than life, you miss the core essence of his teachings. And the greatest tribute you can give your spiritual preceptor is to follow his teachings. How many actually do that?
Once you pass through the arch portal, you climb up stone steps like these. On the sides, one can see sculptures of the various Stations of the Cross. One such sculpture is visible on the right side in this picture.
If stones could speak, perhaps one of the wise among them would say, “Don’t hang around here waiting for stone crosses to sweat, or to gawk at pieces of bone and faded paintings. Go back to your daily routine, but reach out to other people. Forgive them if their faults have roiled you, bless them, see the innocence in them, give them a real loving hug. Those are the kinds of things it all boils down to.”
And another stone might add, “We have learnt much by sitting still in the silence. And so should you. Walk barefoot on the dew-bedecked grass in the early morning, and feel it caress the soles of your feet. Enjoy the sunlight filtering through the leafy trees, and the clouds rolling across the bright blue sky. Gaze at the stars at night, pierce through space and permit yourself to soar heavenwards until you are one with them.”
source: http://www.praguerevue.com / The Prague Revue / Home> In the Stream by Vishwas R. Gaitonde / January 01st, 2014
The Thoothukudi Express lying helter-skelter on the banks of the Maruthaiyar. / Photo: The Hindu Photo Archives / The Hindu
A survivor of a major train disaster in Tamil Nadu shares the trauma she passed through, all of 57 years later
As a fortunate survivor of one of India’s deadliest railway disasters, the Ariyalur train accident, it is time to lay my story and the nightmarish ghosts to rest, by putting my experiences down in writing.
It occurred on November 23, 1956, leaving 142 passengers dead and 110 injured. An estimated 200 people were buried in the debris. Many were missing, their bodies never to be recovered.
Torrential rains had swollen the river Maruthaiyar to a level where the waters almost touched the rails on a bridge between the Ariyalur and Kallagam stations, breaking the embankment to a length of nearly 20 feet, causing flash floods.
From The Hindu, November 24, 1956
Off the rails
About 2 miles after leaving Ariyalur station and 20 miles away from Trichinopoly (Tiruchirapalli), the train slipped off the rails. Its steam engine and seven timber-built carriages including the parcel van telescoped and fell into the river. The eighth coach derailed and four carriages in the rear remained intact.
Then aged 21, I had boarded the Thoothukudi (Tuticorin) Express at Madras (Chennai) at 9.50 the night before, with my aunt. Like Santa in his gift-filled sleigh, we were laden with our Christmas shopping from Moore Market, an old-fashioned steam engine deputising for the reindeer for our journey to Trichinopoly. We were the only occupants of a bay of the eighth compartment of the 13-coach train, one having been detached at Virudhachalam to go on to Salem separately. After a light meal, we settled down for the night and soon fell into deep sleep.
Our terrifying ordeal began with a tremendous jolt and bang. There was a sizzling hiss of steam and, then, ear-piercing screams. After being left sprawling across the floor of the compartment, my first urge after regaining my composure was to jump out of the train. My aunt grabbed me on time: “Don’t jump! We are on a river,” she screamed. She saved me from a watery grave.
Like a puppet on a string, I ran around the compartment in circles. My watch showed it was 5.30 a.m. Peering out of the window, the first crack of daylight revealed a mighty river that roared eerily as it frothed and rushed furiously, taking everything in its path — trees, train wreckage and bodies of men, women and infants. Perched on a platform on the bridge, the guard yelled, “Get out, your compartment has derailed.” In response, my aunt, in her overpowering voice, shouted: “follow me.” “I can’t,” I cried, clinging to her. Wrenching herself off, she bravely unlatched the door and lowered herself to the step of the compartment precariously. She then clambered along, holding on window to window and heading towards the rear of the train.
In an incredible act of heroism, we were walking back to Ariyalur station to seek help.
Prayer for deliverance
Turning my eye heavenward, I prayed for deliverance. Mustering my courage and leaving the precious parcels behind, I followed my aunt in utter terror along with other passengers who had vacated the eighth coach. I remembered the lines from Tennyson’s ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’: “…into the valley of death rode…”
My heart pounded, my teeth chattered and I trembled with fear and cold as I gripped the window bars of the compartments. Loosening my grip would mean certain death. Using every ounce of my strength and with unswerving determination I struggled to save my life. With bruised palms I swayed across four compartments and eventually reached the last compartment in the reassuring presence of my aunt. She was a heroine.
Frightening hours
Being stranded there, waiting to be rescued with floodwaters on either side of the track, were the most frightening hours of my life, observing a scene a human eye could never have seen. It has haunted me all my life. The river bank was bathed in blood with human pulp, headless corpses, severed limbs, torsos and heaps of bodies wrecked of life’s esteem.
After an anxious wait of about four hours, the floodwaters gradually abated. Finally, as the river meekly meandered in its course and corpses bobbed in and out of water, we were rescued. A locomotive arrived to tow us safely back to the Ariyalur station.
There were triumphant screams mingled with sadness for those lost in one of the worst disasters that gripped a nation.
joycevernem@hotmail.com
( At the time of the accident, young Joyce Philomena was a clerk at the Golden Rock Railway School in Tiruchi, newly recruited by Southern Railway. Two years later, she was tranferred to the Divisional Railway Superintendent’s office in Tiruchi. She married Clarence Vernem, a Guard with Southern Railway, and moved to Madurai where she continued to work for the Railways until opting for voluntary retirement from service in 1982.
A young Joyce Philomena (left) was a clerk at the Golden Rock Railway School in Tiruchi. She now lives in Melbourne (right) / The Hindu
The following year, Mr. Vernem passed away. She migrated to Australia in 1996 to join her two children and their families. She now lives in Melbourne (right). Upon being contacted by The Hindu on the phone on March 1 after she sent in her account to Open Page, Ms. Vernem (who provided the details given here of herself) said she remained terrified of trains for years. She later mustered the courage if only to watch passing trains, and would marvel at “how brave the passengers were” !
After suffering nightmares and sleep-walking disorders, she eventually overcame her dread, and often passed Ariyalur by train. A year shy of 80, she still occasionally takes the train in Australia, and lives a “very active life.”
As for her aunt, Eugene Gilles passed away in 1985.)
source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Opinion> Open Page / by Joyce Philomena Vernem / March 02nd, 2014
