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Every city deserves a historian. Madras had its venerable S. Muthiah, now Chennai has V. Sriram donning that role. The city described in V. Sriram’s Chennai – A biography is the same Madras that his mentor Muthiah had so lovingly portrayed in earlier books. But just as Chennai has evolved over the decades, Sriram’s description of this metropolis has also sought to do justice to the changing contours of a city that chooses to change at its own pace.
Meticulous research and an eye for detail have always been Sriram’s hallmarks whether writing or talking about the city’s cultural history. This book is similarly packed with information about the City’s past. One example is when he is askance at Chennai sporting at least 16 Anna Nagars, 56 Anna Salais, 23 Indira Nagars, 24 Kamaraj Nagars and 36 Ambedkar Roads. It appears that there had been very little control exercised by the civic authorities while naming streets, roads and localities and letting the whims and fancies of local politicians to call the shots.
In contrast, Sriram points out how localities like “Mylapore, Thriuottriyur, Padi, Thiruvanmiyur, Thiruvallikeni and Thiruneermalai trace their origins to shrines located in their midst. Most have been immortalised in ancient Tamil verse.” The opening chapter that discusses the city’s age, or its exact founding is probably the most interesting. In his own words: “The big mystery, of course, is Madras – what was the original village like? Did it not have at least one temple to speak of its antiquity? Or was it just a tiny hamlet populated by fishermen? Why are there no inscriptions that speak of the place?” he asks rather longingly.
How old is Chennai?
And then tries to nail the age of Madras aka Chennai through an inscription dating to 1367 and found in Krishnagiri. When deciphered, this inscription lists a series of places that came under the Vijayanagaram empire – Pudipattanam, Madrasapattanam, NiIlankaraiyanpattanam and Kovalam - areas in and around Chennai. And since Madrasapattanam became the Madras of later years, that inscription would help us fix the age of the city to be at least 650 years old, argues Sriram.
The book’s strength lies in the manner it charts out how the city has tried to address its various infrastructural needs over the centuries - water, sewerage, roads, housing and so on. The chapter about the various efforts to supply piped water to the city’s residents credits the efforts of British engineers, MGR’s Telugu Ganga scheme and Jayalaltihaa’s Veeranam scheme and even honours individual efforts of promoting rain water harvesting by the likes of Sekhar Raghavan. How many of us know that the Madley subway in T. Nagar-West Mambalam has been named in honour of J.W. Madley, the engineer who erected the Kilpauk Waterworks in 1914 that continues to be the backbone of the city’s piped water supply.
Similarly, the city has to thank Florence Nightingale, yes, the legendary nurse, for its underground sewerage system. For it was she who fought with the British government to get covered drains constructed in Indian cities. In 1864, with the help of some old India hands, Nightingale put together the Indian Sanitary Report which recommended that Indian cities be equipped with drains. “For some reason, Madras became her favourite city in this regard. It was at her bidding that Captain Tulloch was sent to Madras to put together a comprehensive scheme for laying drains,” says Sriram. It took over a decade for the drains to actually happen and was to some extent prodded by the death of the then Governor Lord Hobart, who died of typhoid which was attributed to the open drains near Government House.
Lots of nuggets
The book is packed with interesting nuggets some of which could challenge and even appal present day sensibilities. Did you know that the Madras Corporation used sewage water to cultivate grass (as fodder for cattle and horses) and vegetables for humans in its sewage farms? These farms were successful only as long as the waste water remained non-toxic and biodegradable. Animal lovers would be startled to learn from the book that “stray dogs of Madras were rounded up by the corporation, killed and the meat given to the carnivores in the zoo” – then housed near Ripon Building. Thankfully, the practice was given up.
In the chapter on the city’s culture, Sriram devotes space to discuss the challenges faced by devadasi women who formed the bedrock of Bharathanatyam. While discussing the city’s musical journey Sriram records that Madras ``was the first location in India where broadcasting of any kind was attempted, with the Madras Presidency Radio Club, which from 1924 broadcast music from gramophones and later live concerts too via loudspeakers placed at the Marina Beach, Robinson’s Park and Panagal Park. The last named still sports its radio house, a round building at the Centre,” Sriram points out.
Another fascinating finding is that the ‘thinnai’ schools of Chennai ``wherein students sat on the front steps of the residence of the teacher or at a public building and the teacher taught with the aid of senior disciples”, were actually replicated in England during the 19th century with great success on the recommendation of Ander Bell, a chaplain who arrived in Madras in 1787. Unfortunately, the ‘thinnai’ schools faded away as parents sought admissions for their wards in schools following Western patterns of teaching. There are other inspiring tales too – like that of Sister Subbalakashmi, the young Brahmin widow who completed her schooling and later college education, combating societal opposition in early 1910 and was later the founder of Sarada Vidyalaya, an important address in girls’ education.
Fraud certificate
The book also credits Dr Edwar Berkley of GH for issuing the first medical certificate in 1693 to enable hospitalisation to prevent the arrest of his friend John Nicks who was facing charges of corruption. Now we know from where the inspiration came for our present-day politicians. Wildlife enthusiasts would be thrilled to learn that Tigers were regular visitors in the forested areas around Pallavaram and there was even a purse of ₹100 for every tiger shot.
One expected more on the chapter of Chennai’s gastronomical journey. But other than what has already been written in page 3 supplements and social media about the vegetarian spread available in the city and their history, Sriram has little new to offer on the plate. The menu on non-veg outlets (barring Buharis) is also rather thin – no mention of Navayuga, famous for Andhra non-veg meals, or Nair Mess in Triplicane, the first stop for fish curry and fish fry. While filter coffee has become synonymous with the city, the reality is Chennai remains one of the largest consumers of tea, especially from the ubiquitous road side Nair ‘kadais’. Apparently, the food choice had been influenced by the author’s own predilection.
The book marks an important milestone in recording the history of South India’s most important city. Its only fault is that occasionally it reads more like an elaborate tourist guide. If only Sriram had extended his narrative style of reeling out idiosyncrasies and tongue-in-cheek anecdotes that he does during his talks, the book would have been even more entertaining.
(The reviewer is a senior journalist and a long-time Chennaite)
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