A sip of delicious kaapi

When somebody says “Coffee was a big deal in my family”, and describes how serious and lengthy discussions on politics, philosophy and public affairs were held over the revered beverage as though it was the “path to enlightenment”, you instinctively know the setting is Chennai that once was Madras.

In her book Degree Coffee by the Yard: A short biography of Madras (Aleph), Nirmala Lakshman lingers lovingly and longingly over many memorable childhood evenings in this coffee-worshipping Southern city. Her mother’s family moved from Thanjavur to Madras in the 1950s and “brought with them a passion for coffee”. Visiting her grandparents as a child, she remembers “there were always tumblers of strong, delicious coffee available at all times of the day; sweet enough for a child sometimes, and at other times strongly brewed and dark like some sinister drink that would at once bestow special powers on the drinker.” But her mother, a “coffee aficionado herself”, fearing her children would get addicted to coffee, allowed them only to “inhale the aroma” till the 12th birthday was crossed. Even then, it was only one cup, which was served in the customary tumbler and dabara , and the challenge was to cool the magic brew by pouring it from one to the other from the greatest height you could manage. The more froth you collected, the smarter you were!

Secret coffee formula

Like everybody else, her mother too had her secret formula for getting the perfect coffee and this was passed on to the daughter at an appropriate time. “Robusta beans or Plantation A combined with Peaberry beans, fresh ground and mixed to the formula of 1:3 was what she prescribed.” And there were alternatives for other combinations.

But, of course, Chennai is more than coffee. It is also the city that has a “breathlessness” in December, when the world’s “largest classical music show gets going”. No other city can boast of over 100 concerts or performances in a day, adding up to about 2,000 during the month. The readers get an interesting, though brief, glimpse into the history of Carnatic music, the “brutal exploitation” of women through the Devadasi system, its opposition by social reformers like Dr Muthulakshmi Reddy, and the moving out of dance from temples. Rukmini Devi Arundale, whose controversial marriage to George Arundale had “even The Hindu spluttering in outrage, elevated what was known as sadir (solo dance in princely courts) to a level of finesse and social acceptance that soon had all the young girls in Madras clamouring to learn Bharatanatyam.”

Along with dance came the flowering of classical music and veterans such as Dhanammal, extremely proficient not only in Carnatic but also Hindustani music, were followed by M.S. Subbulakshmi, who became another strong symbol of Chennai. Gradually the music of M.S. became “like one of the languages of the city”, with many of its homes beginning their mornings with her Suprabhatam or Vishnu Sahasranamam .

Interesting nuggets

Nirmala’s book is a delight to read for its interesting nuggets. The Tamil Isai Sangam was set up to ensure the inclusion of more Tamil songs and challenge the domination of the Music Academy, “which was largely Brahmin-centric” and gave more importance to Sanskrit and Telugu compositions. To confuse matters, several Brahmins like Kalki Krishnamurthy and Rajaji supported the Sangam. “The Music Academy did itself no favours by ridiculous decisions” such as boycotting M.S. because she sang at one of the Sangam’s concerts.

While Chennai loves its December concerts, the author adds that the canteens serving delicious fare such as “ keera vadai , adai , sambar rice, pineapple rasam , and curd rice with fresh pickles”, as well as full meals served on banana leaves, do their bit in attracting rasikas to the various sabhas !

Another nugget is about how Fort St. George became the citadel of British administration in India “long before the Crown acquired Bombay or founded Calcutta”.

The narrative, which is largely told through the author’s interactions with her friends as well as Chennai’s eminent citizens and historians such as S. Muthiah, is racy and holds the readers’ interest through absorbing anecdotes. At the core of the book is the thought that to the Chennai- vasi of a certain age, Madras and Chennai seamlessly meld together; “the city has an uninterrupted flow from the past into the present”. But to really understand and feel Chennai, Nirmala tells us, “the senses have to be extended. Its pulse can be gleaned as much from the nine-yard saris still worn by orthodox Brahmin women drawing their kolams in the Brahmin quarter by the temple, as from the keerakari , the greens seller, who markets her astonishing range of spinach with indefatigable gusto and the pookari , the flower vendor, whose basket of jasmine and marigold assaults the senses. The spirit of the city also hovers in the bylanes of Triplicane, where amidst crowded dwellings and the flurry of daily commerce, it is possible to stumble unexpectedly into serene courtyards of old mosques offering a retreat into quietude and prayer for the local Muslim population.”

Traditional, yet modern

This book has a pertinent message for many ignorant North Indians who think everything south of the Vindhyas is ‘Madaras’, which is a dull, boring, old-fashioned city. But Chennai, says the author, has a “certain modern Tamilness”, which is worn with pride. “Madrasis are not just the ‘ idli-vada-sambar ’ lot,” she says and quotes a local T-shirt maker who says “we love to preserve our culture in a trendy way”. To Nirmala, the city is “visibly modern yet rooted in tradition”.

Chennai is also about Rajnikanth, who practises “simplicity, his financial dealings are exemplary, he is deeply spiritual and, incredibly, he is not running for public office as is often the case with Tamil movie stars. He is as important a feature of Chennai as the venerable Fort St. George”.

Read the book — written in a simple, engaging and chatty style — to get a bird’s eye view of how the British came to Fort St. George around 1630 (they actually founded Madras); the politicians who presided over it — from Rajaji, who became the first Chief Minister of Madras Presidency in 1937, to Kamaraj; the anti-Hindi agitation that brought a new hero, C.N. Annadurai, and the Dravidian parties; its fascinating temples; and its museums, including the shoddily-kept bronze gallery at the Government Museum in Egmore, where the sheer beauty of the exhibits have moved visitors to tears.

Nirmala has succeeded in peeling the several layers that come together to form Chennai. As a Chennai- vasi , I am grateful that she has woven into her narrative the cool, green and ethereal Amethyst, created for the city in two different avatars by Kiran Rao, where the old-world charm of Madras and the modernity of Chennai blend seamlessly. It is best described in the author’s conversation with Kiran, who left the city at 15, and returned to find that many things essentially Madras had disappeared, “like sitting and having a conversation in a verandah… I felt you need places like that in view of the changing dynamics of the city (because) everything was either five-star or shabby.” So she created an “in-between space” where traditional Chennai finds resonance. “The posh bankers come because for them it’s an inverted sense of chic.”

The biggest appeal of this book, especially for single-city people like me, are several evocative passages that transport you to your childhood, college days, working life, and bring back astonishingly similar memories. One such beautiful and nostalgic passage for me was this one: “Madras to me is my childhood, ringed by the light of fading summer evenings, cloudless blue skies… Madras is Munro’s statue, long drives in my father’s Plymouth down the Marina. It meant Jafar’s ice creams, cool red cement floors in old houses with high ceilings. It meant the sweet smell of earth stirred by an unexpected shower on a blistering hot May day, and the softness of my mother’s Mysore silk sari with the gold brocade mangoes, and a sense that all was well with the world.”

Such precious images, pulled out of the mind’s eye and relived, make you re-embrace this amazing city of music, temples, coffee, and much more.

Picture: K. Ananthan

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