Category Archives: Records, All

Once branded village to mark centenary of draconian law

Madurai : 

The three km narrow road to Keelakuyilkudi village from the Madurai – Theni highway is unusually winding. “It was a deliberate design by our ancestors to delay British policemen from reaching the village quickly,” says Pon Harichandran, a villager.

By the time British forces negotiate the curves, messengers atop Samanarmalai would signal villagers who would prepare to take on the policemen. Keelakuyilkudi, now an agrarian village, was one place that gave nightmares for British until they left India, thanks to the militant clan of villagers belonging to ‘piramalai kallar’ community. It was to tame them British enforced the draconian Criminal Tribes Act (CTA), 100 years ago.

Keelakuyilkudi was the first village in Madras Presidency where CTA was enforced. “It was 1914, three years after CTA was extended to Madras Presidency, the British cracked down on Keelakuyilkudi villagers,” says Su Venkatesan, whose Sahitya Akademi award winning debut novel ‘Kaaval Kottam’ dwelt in detail about the Act. The villagers have organised a three-day meet from May 5 to mark the centenary of CTA.

According to CTA, the males of a village right from adolescents to aged should appear in the nearest police station and leave their fingerprints every evening and morning. This was to restrict their movement and ensure that they do not go on a burgling spree. Of the 600-odd males of Keelakuyilkudi, more than 350 men were under the ambit of CTA. But Harichandran said that even before CTA was enforced in 1914, all men from Keelakuyilkudi were taken to police station and forced to stay there every night.

The villagers used to go to Tiruparankunram police station, eight miles away twice a day to leave their fingerprints. Though villagers admit that there were instances of theft by Keelakuyilkudi men, they were later given the job of guarding Madurai due to their valour. “But when they were refused payment for guarding the city, a common man from Keelakuyilkudi took on a senior British police officer which provoked them to enforce the law,” Harichandran says.

A Veemarajan (71), a descendent of CTA victims, says whenever something was stolen in any part of Madurai, police would swoop down only on Keelakuyilkudi. “Police would enter into our house anytime and arrest anyone without a warrant,” he said.

“Neighbouring villagers would not speak to us fearing police action,” he said. Peeliyamma (70) says during her marriage, many expressed concern why she chose a man from Keelakuyilkudi.

Later, the Act was extended to Urappanur and Perungamanallur villages also. It was at Perungamanallur 16 villagers including a woman were shot down by British for resisting the Act in 1920.

As resistance of the Act continued, British established a permanent police post in Keelakuyilkudi. A munsif court and a jail were also established. “Twice in a week, a munsif would visit the court and settle the cases,” a villager recalls.

Simultaneously, the British also set up a handloom unit, opened a school, the first girls school in the state and even a bank to provide loans for pursuing alternative means of livelihood. But the villagers resisted everything that was British.

The Act was finally repealed after independence in 1949. The dilapidated building that housed the munsif court stands a silent testimony to the harrowing past of the village.

source: http://www.timesofindia.indiatimes.com / The Times of India / Home> City> Madurai / by  V. Mayilvaganan, TNN / May 05th, 2014

GH Docs Undertake Complex Hysterectomy on Paraplegic

Doctors at Raja Sir Ramasamy Mudaliyar (RSRM) Hospital in Royapuram successfully carried out a complicated hysterectomy on a 39-year-old paraplegic from Kumbakonam.

Kavitha (39), who was paraplegic and suffered from myelomeningocele, a birth defect in which the backbone and spinal canal do not close, was self-dependent until she suffered a prolapsed uterus a year back.

Private hospitals in Kumbakonam and Thanjavur refused to perform vaginal hysterectomy on her as it was difficult to administer anaesthesia and perform the surgery. She then approached doctors at Raja Sir Ramasamy Mudaliyar Hospital in Royapuram.

Doctors said the woman, who was less than three feet tall, was unable to recline, slept in prone position (on the belly), always sat up when awake, could only crawling around, and defecation and urination was involuntary. She had previously undergone a surgery to remove a cyst on her spinal cord.

A team of seven doctors operated on Kavitha on May 13. “In most cases, it is safe to administer anaesthesia in the spine and the surgery is done with the legs held up. But in her case, she was paraplegic from waist down. If she is not given anaesthesia, there could be a hypertensive crisis and there are chances of her dying on the table,” explained Dr AL Meenakshi Sundaram, anaesthetist, who was part of the team that performed the surgery.

A doctor explained that Kavitha was made to lie in a 45 degree head-up tilt position and anaesthesia was given through her windpipe with the anaesthetist standing on a stool. “We could not lift her lower limbs up like it is done in regular cases. She was also on manual ventilation throughout the surgery,” doctors said.

After the surgery, Kavitha was put in the intensive care unit. She is expected to be discharged in three days, said doctors.

source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> Cities> Chennai / by Express News Service – Chennai / May 16th, 2014

Travellers, the small little town of Sadras has a lot to offer you

The fort of Sadras in the sleepy little town of Kalpakkam takes us back to a time when it was a hub of trade and a much contested seat of power.
The fort of Sadras in the sleepy little town of Kalpakkam takes us back to a time when it was a hub of trade and a much contested seat of power.

Sadras: 

The serene fort of Sadras stands strong, yet fragile in all its ruined glory. Not many would know that it exists in the sleepy little town of Kalpakkam — who would notice it when there is a nuclear power plant coming up two kms away.

Sadras is a quiet fishing hamlet and the fort was one of the seats of power of the Dutch who docked there in the early 17th century. They, like the other Europeans, landed here to pursue their interests in trade. The fort  happened to be standing at the heart of a battlefield, with the Dutch, Portuguese, French and British fighting to establish their monopoly here. It’s no surprise then that the fort retains a crippled magnificence.

Thus, I stand among the ruins of the fort of Sadurangapattinum, as it was called then, before it was anglicised to ‘Sadras’ by the Europeans. A white tomb and cannon adorn the entrance to the cemetery, the warehouses have been restored by the Archaeological Survey of India and the fort walls are charred, yet red.

Story has it that the battle of Sadras was fought between the British and Dutch. After suffering a brief setback in the first war the British took over in the early 19th century, razing the fort to the ground, firing cannon from the sea.

So what drew the Europeans to this calm village? This place was under the stronghold of the Cholas and later became a part of the Vijayanagara Empire, it being a bustling hub of trade and a weaving centre, well known for  its muslin export to the Europeans.

The keeper of the fort tells me all about the graves and their inscriptions. Further inside, in a room assumed to be a secret chamber or dungeon, there is a gaping hole where the central structure has caved in, making way for the sun to light up the room.

We step further into the fort, the ruins in red and black standing out against the tall green weeds that are creeping up everywhere. Beyond the warehouses I climb the ramp, leading to the roof of the rooms, which is  the highest point of the fort. I stand and listen to the distant roar of the sea, stretching out like a blanket far beyond the horizon.

I can see in my mind’s eye what the red structure must have looked like in all its original splendour. A fort, marked with triangular, yet rook-like pillars, with cannon and battlements at its corners; beautifully carved archways in white and red, leading to the warehouses and chambers of the settlers beyond, abuzz with activity. The lapping of the waves pulls me back to the present. It’s time to leave the past and enjoy the beach in front of me.

source: http://www.deccanchronicle.com / Deccan Chronicle / Home> Lifestyle> Travel / Deccan Chronicle / by  R. Supraja / May 12th, 2014

Chennai is a Telugu word, nothing Tamil about it: Historian

Chennai :

What does Chennai mean? The question troubled Paris-based historian J B P More quite a lot. After painstaking research, he found the answer.

In his recently released book, titled ‘Origin and Foundation of Madras’, More says, “Chinapatnam and Chennapatnam were the other names for Madras used by Tamil and Telugu settlers in the area. Chennapatnam was ‘Tamilised’ as Chennai but the word didn’t mean anything in Tamil. It’s undoubtedly a Telugu word.”

Madraspatnam was derived from Medu Rasa Patnam, said More, who was in Chennai on Saturday to release his book. “When Nayak Venkatappa (a local chieftain) issued a grant (a portion of the area where subsequently Fort St George came up) in favour of the English in 1639, only Madraspatnam was mentioned in it. But during the 1640s, two new names for Madraspatnam or for the area inhabited by Tamils and Telugus around Fort St George seems to have come into existence. They were Chinapatnam and Chennapatnam,” he said.

Chinapatnam would have been the first name that would have come into existence in the Tamil-Telugu quarters to signify the Black Town of Madraspatnam. “‘Chenna’ in Telugu means fair and is not to be confused with the Tamil ‘Chinna’, which means small. In Tamil, ‘Chenna’ is meaningless,” said More.

He said in the Tamil Lexicon, the Tamil word ‘Cennai’ has been mentioned which would signify ‘a drum announcing religious procession of an idol’. More said there was no reference in documents and literature of the period to ‘Chennai’ as a drum.

“In the document of Beri Timanna, we find ‘Chenna’ written as ‘Chennai’. Thus Chenna Kesava Perumal became Chennai Kesava Perumal and Chennapatnam became Chennai Pattanam.

This seems to be purely the work of a translator of the 19th century who had preferred to Tamilise the Telugu word ‘Chenna’ into ‘Chennai’ so it sounded more Tamil,” said More. “The word ‘Chennai’ seems to have been born to designate Madras town. Its origin is Telugu. There is nothing Tamil in it,” he added.

source: http://www.timesofindia.indiatimes.com / The Times of India / Home> City> Chennai / by M T Saju,  TNN  / May 04th, 2014

Android App on Women safety Brings Award for VIT Student

Mithila Harish receiving the Gandhian Young Technological Innovation Award from Dr R A Mashelkar, Chairman, SRISTI, at a recent function in IIM-Ahmedabad | express
Mithila Harish receiving the Gandhian Young Technological Innovation Award from Dr R A Mashelkar, Chairman, SRISTI, at a recent function in IIM-Ahmedabad | express

A final year student of Vellore Institute of Technology (VIT) Mithila Harish has developed a mobile app for women’s safety and has bagged the Gandhian Young Technological Innovation (GYTI) Award for it.

Studying B Tech in Electronics and Instrumentation, Mithila said she was concerned over the growing danger to women and children as  they were being subjected to kidnapping, acid attack, rape and extortion and wanted to help them using the tools of technology. The distressing situation can be both mental and physical.

Along with a professor who was her guide, the student developed a voice-activated app on the Android platform that would help women in distress by providing the location information through an SMS to trusted emergency numbers stored in the mobile phone. “This would certainly help improve the chances of detection and prevention of crime,” she told Express.

The app recognises voice command of the user. Supposing a woman screams a keyword such as ‘danger,’ the app would automatically alert the emergency number. The app is a combination of early warning and tracking services aimed at providing a degree of succour. Broadly, its functionality spans situation-sensing, situation-recording locally and situation- broadcasting.

The biggest strength of the tool is that the solution aims at providing  both the obvious and simple features such as GPS-tracking and the more subtle and complex ones such as phrases recognition, probabilistic tracking and device-hopping solutions.

“I faced conceptual and methodological challenges in implementing the advanced technology in the app. Keeping battery and memory capacities of the phone are some of the  practical issues,” she noted.

source: http://www.newindianexpress.com / The New Indian Express / Home> States> Tamil Nadu / by V. NarayanaMurthi – Vellore / April 30th, 2014

Railway workshop sets a new benchmark

V. Selvam, right, Chief Workshop Manager, Golden Rock Railway Workshop, giving away the Best Communication and Technical Development Award to G.S. Gopalakrishnan, Senior Section Engineer, in Tiruchi on Tuesday. / Photo: R. M. Rajarathinam / The Hindu
V. Selvam, right, Chief Workshop Manager, Golden Rock Railway Workshop, giving away the Best Communication and Technical Development Award to G.S. Gopalakrishnan, Senior Section Engineer, in Tiruchi on Tuesday. / Photo: R. M. Rajarathinam / The Hindu

988 coaches overhauled in 2013-14; orders bagged for 1,000 low container wagons

The Golden Rock Railway Workshop here had created a record in periodic overhauling (POH) of passenger coaches in the 2013-14 fiscal, its Chief Workshop Manager V. Selvam said on Tuesday.

The workshop had carried out period overhauling of 988 coaches in 2013-14, including 144 air-conditioned coaches as against 924 coaches in the 2012-13 financial year, Mr. Selvam said speaking at the 59 Railway Week celebrations organised by the workshop here.

Highlighting the achievements of various wings of the workshop, Mr. Selvam appreciated the officers and employees for their joint effort in surpassing the targets.

The workshop had bagged a fresh order for the manufacture of 1,000 bogie low container wagons from the Container Corporation of India (CONCOR) at a cost of Rs. 315 crore. The CONCOR had deposited Rs. 74 crore to the Railways in this regard, Mr. Selvam said.

Due to power conservation measures, the electrical wing of the workshop had saved 24,341 units of electricity.

There were no electricity-related accidents in 2013-14 in the workshop because of effective power management measures, he said.

Mr. Selvam said the workshop had bagged the General Manager’s Green Shield Award for the fifth time and another award for ‘Best Maintained Extra Division Office (Major)”.

Certificates were presented on the occasion to a number of 961 workshop employees in appreciation of their outstanding performances.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Tiruchirapalli / by R. Rajaram / Tiruchi – April 30th, 2014

When the red flag first flew over Chennai

The Making of the Madras Working Class./  Photo by D. Veeraraghavan / The Hindu
The Making of the Madras Working Class./ Photo by D. Veeraraghavan / The Hindu

High Court and Napiers Park saw the country’s first May Day celebrations

On the evening of May 1, 1923, as factories across the country were winding down for the day, labourers of Madras city revelled in the first recorded May Day celebrations of the country at Triplicane Beach. Legend has it that it was in the celebrations near Madras High Court and Napiers Park that red flags were first unfurled.

The events which led up to this day reveal a dramatic story which saw the city becoming an arena where volatile class wars were waged.

India’s first organised labour union was born near the Perambur Barracks in the vicinity of the Buckingham and Carnatic Mills of Madras. Selvapathi Chettiar and G. Ramanjalu Naidu, shopkeepers whose shops were patronised by millworkers, on hearing about the appalling working conditions in factories, resolved to form a union.

Providing the historical context, A. Sounderajan, CPI (M) MLA of the Perambur constituency, says, “Workers were treated like slaves in the mills. With the end of the First World War in 1918, the management revoked concessions it had granted for uninterrupted production. Discontent was high but news of the Bolshevik Revolution in Soviet Russia instilled hope.”

The specific incident which propelled action was the plight of a B&C millworker who was left no choice but to soil his work station on being forbidden a break to relieve himself. Outraged at the humiliation meted out to a fellow worker, as many as 10,000 employees of Carnatic mills, Perambur Works and other factories assembled at the Janga Ramayammal Garden at Stathams’ Road in March 1918. TV Kalyanasundara Mudaliyar (Thiru Vi. Ka.) editor of Desa Bakthan, and B.P. Wadia the Parsi theosophist, over the next month, delivered a series of lectures on the need for collective action by labourers. Finally, on April 27 1918, the Madras Labour Union (MLU) was launched with B.P. Wadia as its first president.

B. P Wadia, the first president of the union. / The Hindu
B. P Wadia, the first president of the union. / The Hindu

Five years after the first labour union in the country was inaugurated, Singaravelar Chettiar, a labour activist commemorated May Day. Urging Indian labourers to join in the celebrations, he said that the occasion would serve as a source of strength as on this day, workers across the globe would unite in a show of power.

One can only imagine Napiers Park and Triplicane resounding with stirring union sloganeering — Reduce working time! Better Wages! More Leave!

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> News> Cities> Chennai / by Nitya Menon / Chennai – May 01st, 2014

The street where Kovai cotton was born

Coimbatore :

Just opposite the busy Flower Market on Mettupalayam Road are four narrow lanes called the Devangapet Streets. The streets appear to almost be an extension of the commercial main road. Streets are densely populated with garland makers, ceramic tile outlets, hardware stores and bakeries. With two-wheelers and auto stands parked on both sides of all the streets and the connecting bylanes, parking is a nightmare. It is difficult to imagine that these streets were closed to vehicular traffic for years around two to three decades back. These streets were where threads used to weave sarees were woven from cotton and dried on the road.

The streets were named after the community that used to weave these cotton threads —the Devanga Chettiars, a community that migrated from in and around Hampi, within the erstwhile Vijayanagara empire. The Devanga Chettiars were Telugu-speaking people who specialised in hand-weaving threads and saris. “Their cloth was very popular among the North Indian community, especially among people from Rajasthan,” recalls historian Rajesh Govindarajulu. “The cotton was considered very good for turbans,” he says.

This community is considered the people who created the Coimbatore cotton. “They were hard-working and industrial people. They were responsible for the advent of modern textiles 70 to 80 years ago,” says Govindarajulu. “This led to them making a fortune out of it,” he says.

Many in the community continue to manually weave threads, dye them and leave them on the streets to dry. They mainly lived on the four streets forming Devangapet and a few streets on the opposite side like Light House Road, R G Street and Oppannakara Street.

“They used to live on one-storied limestone and roofed houses,” remembers an employee of CSK Tubes, which has been on Devangapet Street for the past 30 years. “We used to know many of the residents living here till they sold their houses away,” he adds. Govindarajulu describes the houses as modest but well-constructed. “They used to have nice large windows, even if the houses were narrow. Many of their houses are considered heritage buildings,” he says. Today, only a handful of them remain. Most have them have converted to two or three-storied concrete buildings or commercial establishments with large frontages.

One of the streets during the 70s was also renamed as the Nanneri Kazhagam Street or the NNK Street. Though no stretches of the road bear the name, a few auto drivers remember that the Devangapet Streets were renamed NNK Street a few years ago. The Nanneri Kazhagam was founded in 1956 by Baburaj to promote Tamil literature. “It started in a small place above a jewellery shop on Big Bazaar Street,” says Perur K Jayaraman, a city historia, adding “We still meet once every month and host an event..”

source: http://www.timesofindia.indiatimes.com / The Times of India / Home> City> Coimbatore / by Pratiksha Ramkumar, TNN / April 27th, 2014

Kovai innovator on Time’s list of 100 influential people

Coimbatore :

It took a while for A Muruganantham, the 49-year-old resident of Coimbatore, known globally as the menstrual man for his revolutionary design in the production of low cost hygienic sanitary napkins, for the news to sink in when he came to know that he’s one among four Indians to be featured in the Time magazine list of 100 most influential people in the world along with BJP leader Narendra Modi, Aam Aadmi Party leader Aravind Kejriwal and writer Arundhathi Roy. The list also includes the likes of US President Barack Obama, Russian President Vladimir Putin, education activist Malala and whistle blower Edward Snowden.

“It is a great feeling to realise that I am sharing space with these people. But it has not been an easy journey for me so far even though I’m constantly trying to improvise and upgrade my skills, which is my main driving force,” said Muruganantham, seated inside his modest workshop in the outskirts of the city. When he is in Coimbatore, he spends most of his time tinkering with his production design for low cost sanitary napkins. But most of the time he is travelling across the globe delivering lectures and attending seminars organised by universities including Harvard University. A Muruganatham had decided to come up with the sanitary napkin manufacturing machine way back in 1998 when he realised that his wife Santhi used a piece of old rag cloth as a substitute for sanitary napkins. He realised that most Indian women like his wife were finding it difficult to access hygienic sanitary napkins due to lack of availability and affordability.

“Hailing from the family of a handloom weaver and making a living from a modest workshop, I realised that if the women in my family decide to opt for branded sanitary napkins then we will have to make major cuts in our family budget,” added Muruganantham.

His initial attempt involved buying 10 grams of cotton at 10p and presenting a sanitary napkin to his wife. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a major disaster. This forced him to do some ground research on the type of materials used in branded sanitary napkins.

“At once I realized I was in trouble as I was unable to get feedback on existing products. Besides, I didn’t have access to used napkins to study and understand the type of raw materials I would need. Fed up with my obsession, my wife left me for a while. There were rumours that I was a pervert in my village. Some even said I was a vampire yearning to drink blood,” he said.

But Muruganantham continued with his efforts and realised that the key raw material to manufacture sanitary napkins was cellulose which could be separated and turned into the fluffy cotton used inside the pad. After further research he came up with a design that was finally approved by IIT Madras. Instantly, his fortunes were reversed and he began to receive global attention in 2009. He went one step further and decided to supply the units to women self help groups in India and globally where groups of women could manufacture and market their own local brands of sanitary napkins.

source: http://www.timesofindia.indiatimes.com / The Times of India / Home> City> Coimbatore / by Binoy Valsan, TNN / April 27th, 2014

MELANGE: THE SATURDAY STORY : How the Krishnans brought Wimbledon home

Ramanathan Krishnan and Lalitha Krishnan at their natural grass court patterned on those at Wimbledon./ Photo : R Ravindran. / The Hindu
Ramanathan Krishnan and Lalitha Krishnan at their natural grass court patterned on those at Wimbledon./ Photo : R Ravindran. / The Hindu

The English championship is two months away and fans are making plans to be there. But the first family of Indian tennis has other ideas

No sprightly girls and boys to chase the yellow balls. No linesmen to yell out calls. No electronic board to flash the scores. But superlative matches are played every day at this grass court, where tall trees fill in for spectators.

These ‘matches’ defy the humdrum order of time, space and sequence. One moment, an iceberg-cool Borg and a fiery McEnroe are locked in a nail-biting tie-breaker. In the next, Ashe gets the better of Connors with a clever mix of slice and spin. Then come Nadal and Federer fighting a war of attrition, which is followed by an emotion-soaked final where a kind Duchess of Kent offers her shoulder to a teary-eyed Jana Novotna, disconsolate after her loss to Steffi Graf.

Welcome to the private grass court at Oliver Road in Mylapore, maintained by Indian tennis’ first family, the Krishnans, as a tribute to Wimbledon. For the Krishnans, this natural grass court, which borrows features from the hallowed courts of Wimbledon, serves as a mind screen to replay and relive the timeless matches from the prestigious English championship. (Also significant is that this court is one of the very few natural grass courts in the country.)

“Wimbledon is dear to every member of our family. We have followed the championship closely for decades,” says Ramanathan Krishnan, 77 now.

Ramanathan Krishnan in action at Wimbledon. / The Hindu Archive
Ramanathan Krishnan in action at Wimbledon. / The Hindu Archive

The Krishnans not only tracked Wimbledon, they also excelled in it — a fact that largely shaped their deep attachment to the championship and also the decision to design a natural grass court patterned on those at Wimbledon. Ramanathan Krishnan is a two-time semi-finalist (1960 and 1961) at Wimbledon and his son Ramesh Krishnan, the winner of the 1979 Wimbledon juniors title and a quarter-finalist in the men’s section in 1986.

Ramesh Krishnan discussing with his father Mr Ramanathan Krishnan at a practice session in Madras on October 07, 1980 as mother Mrs. Lalitha Krishnan and his playmates look on./ The Hindu Archives
Ramesh Krishnan discussing with his father Mr Ramanathan Krishnan at a practice session in Madras on October 07, 1980 as mother Mrs. Lalitha Krishnan and his playmates look on./ The Hindu Archives

“It was our son Ramesh’s idea to design a Wimbledon-type grass court at our house on Oliver Road. Around four years ago, he came up with this plan and everyone was excited about it. Ramesh got all the necessary information from Wimbledon. My wife Lalitha assisted in executing the project. And when it was done, we knew we had brought Wimbledon home,” declares Ramanathan, who spends the evening hours with Lalitha at this private grass court, both of them merrily parked in broad, deliciously comfortable bamboo chairs.  “When Wimbledon is on, we bring out the television set and watch the matches sitting here,” says Lalitha, 70.

The Krishnans are going to a lot of trouble to make Wimbledon more immediate for themselves: they have put two men, A. Shanmugam and M. Manickam, on the job of maintaining the court. Natural grass court maintenance is costly and cumbersome, the reason we don’t have many of them around.

Notably, this grass court is not used regularly — for ‘real’ matches, that is. “Once in two months, Ramesh, who lives in R.A. Puram, brings some of his friends along for a game,” says Ramanathan.

Besides the love of Wimbledon, there are other sentiments that spur the desire to keep the court in shape and working order. Beneath the grass, lie clayey memories of long practice hours and family bonding. “This was a clay court for well over three decades, before it was turned into a grass court four years ago. We set up the clay court in 1975. It was a training ground for Ramesh,” says Ramanathan.

“Father would train Ramesh from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. at this court,” recalls Gowri Krishnan-Tirumurti, Ramanathan’s daughter, who also trained at the court and is the 1982 Indian national juniors champion.

TK Ramanathan with his son Ramanathan Krishnan./ The Hindu Archives
TK Ramanathan with his son Ramanathan Krishnan./ The Hindu Archives

In its clayey days, the court saw five south Indian champions play and practise the sport — T.K. Ramanathan, Ramanathan Krishnan, Ramesh Krishnan, Gowri Krishnan and Shankar Krishnan (a cousin of Ramesh and Gowri). “Just like my dad and brother, Shankar went on to play Davis Cup,” says Gowri.

This private tennis court may have created champions, but its charm lies in the sense of togetherness it has fostered among the Krishnans. “I remember when we would be practising, our mother would sit on the sidelines and peel oranges for us,” says Gowri.

The bonding has extended to the youngest generation. Ramanathan’s grandchildren — Gayathri, Nandita, Bhavani and Vishwajit — are in their twenties and studies have taken some of them away from home; yet, when they visit their grandparents, they love to sit around this clay-turned-grass court. Says Gowri, “Successive generations have learnt many things around this court. Discipline is one of them.”

And, surely, also what it takes to be a winner.

source: http://www.thehindu.com / The Hindu / Home> Features> MetroPlus> Society / by Prince Frederick / Chennai – April 25th, 2014