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When MMM was invited to a Doctored, Dictated, Debate on PS-1

The Man from Madras Musings is not a great one for debates. As a student he was quite good at these but at one stage there came a feeling that MMM would be better off conserving his vocal cords. Of course, those were debates that preserved decorum. The so-called debates that MMM gets to occasionally watch on television fill him with a sense of revulsion. But then as the Lady of Shallot so astutely observed, the curse does come upon us and so it did to MMM, rather late in the night. The phone rang and MMM answered it. MMM’s close friend Super Singer has often commented on this habit of MMM’s and asked if it was necessary to answer every call that comes through. SS is picky and chooses his calls with care but not so MMM. If the phone rings, he has to answer and if he missed a call, he invariably returns it. And so it was that MMM answered the phone. At the other end was a young defender of the system, with whom MMM has at best a nodding acquaintance. MMM asked DS as to what he owed the honour of the call to. There was first a paean to MMM from the other end. He, MMM that is, was described as the go-to person for all matters concerning Chennai and DS said that he, DS, knew that he, MMM, would not say no to anything that he, DS, would ask of him, MMM. To this, MMM was non-committal and enquired as to how he may be of help. The response was that the film PS-1 had raised many questions regarding religion. Someone somewhere had said that old PS, the main character that is, did not belong to majority religion. And that by implication meant that someone somewhere stated that he, that is old PS, was of minority religion. DS was on his way to defend PS, majority religion, and other such matters under threat and he wanted MMM to also participate in a debate. “The editor cum anchor of the debate will call you, MMM!” was DS’ parting shot before he no doubt went to don armour and helmet. It was much later in the night when MMM got a call. MMM does not know about you, but he has of late taken to going to bed early. This is not owing to any hope that this way he will wake up healthy, wealthy, and wise but chiefly owing to dipping energy levels as age advances. Anyway, he answered the phone and sure enough, there was the editor himself, he of foghorn voice and fearsome mien. Could MMM come on to the show at 11.00 pm asked the man (PS was obviously not the kind of debate which got prime time) and even before MMM could answer he had added that he would be glad if MMM could speak on how as a member of the majority community MMM was finding it impossible to live in Chennai. MMM pondered for a bit. Though he had many issues himself with the way caste, religion and debates in the state were invariably hijacked in one direction or the other, he refused to believe that it was impossible to live in Chennai. And so, he very gently replied that he was not used to being told to take a particular line aforehand in what was supposed to be a freewheeling debate. The line went dead and with that MMM lost an opportunity to be a celebrity.

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When Madras had a Globe Theatre

How can Madras not have had a Globe Theatre? That name, forever associated with the Bard of Avon ought strictly to have been a playhouse but for some reason cinema took to it and practically every city in the English-speaking world that had a significant film following seems to have had a Globe Theatre. Ours too was no exception and as if to prove we were one up on others, we had two – the Globe and the New Globe. Our story begins with Raghupathy Venkayya, who having seen success in running a touring talkie early in the 1900s (see Not Much Gaiety In Its History) decided that he ought to become a theatre owner. To him goes the credit of being the first Indian in the city to build a motion picture house. The Gaiety on Mount Road opened just a week after the Emden shelled the city, which means it was in business by end September 1914. Then came the Crown at the end of Mint Street, and the Globe in Purasawalkam, both inaugurated in 1915. This Globe was later renamed Roxy and survived for long, under various managements, before being demolished a decade or so ago, to make way for Saravana Stores, Purasawalkam. All three, Gaiety, Crown and Globe/Roxy were taken over by the Official Assignee of the High Court of Madras in 1925, when Raghupathy Venkayya and his son Prakash, chiefly owing to financial profligacy, ran their film-making company to the ground and declared insolvency. They had been running the Star of the East studio behind the Globe/Roxy and this had apart from them the Maharajah of Pithapuram, Sir RK Shanmukham Chetty and Govinddoss Chaturbhoojadoss as its Directors. The Roxy and the Gaiety stood on leased land and the lease of the former was taken over by Globe Theatres Pvt Limited, promoted by Varadaraja Pillai, a man from with political connections in Salem. By this time, Mount Road was fast emerging as the place to be in as far as films were concerned. The Kushaldoss Chaturbhoojadoss family owned a vast plot of land measuring eleven grounds at the intersection of General Patters and Mount Roads, and this was deemed ideal for a theatre. For reasons best known to the family, it was decided to enter into a lease agreement with a film promoter for the development of the theatre. The land was therefore leased to M Varadaraja Pillai. The lease was entered into in 1938 for a period of 15 years, at a rent of Rs 560 per month. Varadaraja Pillai thereafter constructed the theatre building on the land and thus came into existence New Globe Theatre. Located at 2 & 3/18, Mount Road, with ‘no access from General Patters Road’ as the theatre management reminded patrons, this soon became a location of choice. One of the reasons was of course that it screened only English films. This by itself was a throwback to the old Raghupathy Venkayya days when he made it a point to screen films from the US and the UK in his theatres. There is just one photo of New Globe available in the public domain on the internet. It reveals a square building with an Art Deco front – chiefly a stepped façade. To one side is a soda fountain. No pictures of its interior seem to have survived. It is also not clear as to who the architect was. From the design it appears to be the creation of LM Chitale but we cannot be sure. Varadaraja Pillai seems to have a made a going concern of New Globe and everyone was happy. However, what happened subsequently is of great interest. The lease expiring in 1954, Varadaraja Pillai asked for and successfully obtained an extension of it for a further ten years, at a marginally enhanced rent of Rs 630 per month. When that period expired, the Kushaldoss family opted to exercise its rights as owner. A clause in the lease said that at the end of the tenure, the owner could opt to purchase the theatre building, valued at the time of the lease at Rs 50,000, less depreciation. The family graciously decided to waive the depreciation and sent in a cheque for Rs 50,000 in full with a request that the property be handed over. This Varadaraja Pillai refused to do, claiming protection under the Madras City Tenants Protection Act. The case dragged on till the mid 1970s, making its way up to the Supreme Court of India. At the same time as this case, Varadaraja Pillai was fighting against handing over land to the Salem Municipal Corporation. He had in 1939 entered into an agreement to build a theatre in that town on public land, with a proviso that at the time of expiry of lease, he would demolish the building he constructed and return the property as an empty plot. What is interesting is that in Salem he was claiming protection against the same Madras City Tenants Protection Act! Matters were compounded further when on the closure of the New Globe owing to litigation, some of the workers demanded that they be employed at the Roxy and went to court as well! Pillai was a close associate of the then Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu, M Karunanidhi. The progress of the cases was therefore watched with keen interest. The verdicts went against the owners in the lower court and the Madras High Court. There was however a reversal in the Supreme Court and Pillai was asked to handover the land to the Kushaldoss Chaturbhoojadoss family. Just then, and most conveniently, the Madras City Tenants Protection Act was amended by the DMK Government which enabled Pillai file for a review at the Supreme Court. When that went against him, he began once again at the Madras High Court on a technicality. Eventually, in 1974, faced with a contempt petition in the Supreme Court, he had to give in. The fact that the land was by then valued

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The Pig’s Son and Other Stories

You must have seen or at least heard about the film River’s Son by now. It created quite a stir even before being released and much to the distress of the naysayers did well at the box office as well. The Man from Madras Musings watched with amusement as the doomsday advocates decided to anyway vent their spleen. They must have no doubt written their scathing reviews even earlier and then having watched with sorrow the film’s success added a few more paragraphs by means of a pen dipped in bile. Not that it made any difference to the film – it came, it was seen, and it has conquered. MMM hears that the money raked in was unbelievable and even the Mumbai film industry sat up and took notice. MMM is happy – not that he has any stake in the film – for when an industry battered for two years by a pandemic suddenly does well, it is a time for joy, and not jeremiads. The problem with most of the Cassandras has been that they imagined they owned the eponymous novel. What they forgot was that River’s Son the novel was meant for a 1950s audience that read it over four years even as it was serialised in a magazine. The film on the other hand, is meant for a millennial generation with the attention span of an ant. And yes, MMM did notice many errors, in backdrops and costumes. In particular one that pervaded the novel and made it to the film as well – considering that the historical events on which the film is based spanned 16 years, not one of the characters age, in prose and on celluloid!   Be that as it may, MMM was tickled pink when media houses from up north began calling him and asking him for enlightenment. Having grown up on a steady diet of Mughal history (if that,) they were surprised to know that there existed kings down south. MMM found something innocent in their queries about Raj Raj Chol and his son Rajinder. They wanted to know as to why if the younger son had the title (surname in North Indian parlance) Varman, the elder brother was known as Karikal and the sister Kund Vai. MMM had very little to say for the very mention of Chol had taken him on a mental journey to the north where they made chickpea dishes in a fabulous manner. They also asked about Vaanthiyathevan which made MMM somewhat nauseous. They enquired about Nandini but stopped short of names such as Azhwarkadiyan, Anbil Aniruddhabrahmarayar and Periya Pazhuvettaraiyar. And a couple of days later, MMM was mighty amused to find a report that read that the south Indian erotic film Pig’s Son had done well. The changing of an ‘o’ with an ‘a’ had done all the damage. MMM sadly did not notice any erotica in the film and is planning to watch it again just to make sure. There was yet another aspect – the action is set around 985AD and much of Indian media got it wrong. There was one group that said the film was about happenings in the 9th century (985AD they assumed was 9th century). There was a second group, slightly more knowledgeable than the first which knew that the century count was always different from the number in the hundredth place, only they did not know as to how it differed.  And so they played it safe by referring to the film as being set in the 8th century! As for the film itself, it may have been set in any century, going by the costumes, backdrops and props. And it could have been set anywhere as well – random monuments from North India and of a much later vintage kept zooming across the screen. The language was yet another matter altogether. Most characters did not know the difference between zha and La or La and la or Ra and ra (all to be understood here from the Tamil point of view). Very often MMM assumed that a tail was being referred to when all along the actor was meaning a sword. On raising this point with someone involved with the film MMM was informed that it was quite likely that people in the 10th century spoke Tamil the same way as people do now. Another person had it that the actors spoke that way on purpose, chiefly to engage with the young audiences of today. Somehow, MMM was not willing to buy either argument.

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Government (finally) moves on heritage

There is some good news on the heritage front. The State Government has announced a budget of Rs 100 crores or thereabouts for the restoration of 17 heritage structures across the State. The buildings that will be attended to within the city are Rajaji Hall, the Pay and Accounts Office East and Agricultural Records Building (we presume this means the Humayun Mahal and the tower that Chisholm built to link the two wings of the Chepauk Palace), and parts of the King Institute. Out of the Rs. 100 crores, around Rs. 44 crores will be spent on these city-based structures. In addition, it is learnt that the Heritage Wing of the Public Works Department is also attending to the old Government Press (earlier the Mint) on Mint Street as well as focusing on completing the restoration of Humayun Mahal. Once these are all done, the State Government will have a track record to be proud of and hopefully will prove an inspiration to owners of private heritage buildings. What is not spelt out with any clarity however is the process that will be followed. There is no doubt that it will be the Heritage Wing of the Public Works Department that will take up the activity. But is it even equipped to handle work of such magnitude? A news report a year or so ago had it that with just 19 engineers and 25 assistants, the Heritage Wing was struggling to handle the restoration of just Humayun Mahal, work on which has been in progress for over nine years. Of course, heritage conservation cannot be date bound and is prone to many twists and turns but even given all of that, the question arises as to how a department that is finding tasks on hand difficult to complete can take on so many others. The PWD had earlier said that the shortage of skilled labour was a problem and has chosen to blame the COVID pandemic for it. But it is a well-known fact that the paucity existed even before. It is therefore surprising that PWD has now said that the shortage is a matter of the past and it has sufficient artisans to take on restoration. If this is true, we are happy but in the absence of any real change on the ground, we are doubtful. While we appreciate that heritage conservation is a time-consuming process, it is necessary to realise that awaiting manpower is not part of conservation activity and is actually a waste of time. The continued deterioration of heritage structures cannot be halted during the hiatus and the delay compounds future restoration even more apart from causing budgets to creep upwards. It is therefore necessary for PWD to spell out just how it is going to manage such a spate of restoration. If the answer is by contracting the work out, then it is also necessary for the larger public to be informed of the credentials of such parties. Irreversible damage can be caused if restoration is handled by inexperienced agencies. The actual problem lies elsewhere – in skill development and in making people aware that heritage is a paying proposition if handled well. The shortage of skilled manpower is actually an opportunity that engineering colleges and polytechnics would do well to address. The PWD too needs to make these institutions aware that there are employment opportunities in heritage conservation. With every civil and structural engineer choosing to focus on standard building materials and techniques, there is a glut in one area and a yawning gap in another. If the PWD were to make work regularly available and help showcase its restoration, chances are that such tasks will be taken up in the private sector as well, which will result in better employment opportunities for heritage specialists.  

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A Madras bungalow, ideal for cat burglars

When Madras was plagued by a cat burglar

‘In general, a cat burglar is a thief who intrudes into homes to steal personal property, getting their name from the idea that cats can be quiet and sneaky. Cat burglars are essentially thieves who are able to break into a home without being noticed’ – thus runs a definition on the internet. Madras city had just such a cat burglar in the 1920s and he gave the police in the city quite a run before finally being apprehended. I first came across a reference to his (mis)deeds in S Balakrishna Shetty’s comprehensive work, The History of the Madras Police (Madras Police Department, 1959). ‘A cat burglar made his appearance in 1930,’ wrote Shetty. ‘He specialised in breaking into bungalows of well-to-do people, both Indian and European, by climbing up the drainpipe and in taking away the jewellery that found a ready market. He was the forerunner of a criminal called ‘Flannelfoot’ in England who was responsible for about 135 burglaries in the year 1937. The cat burglar committed 41 burglaries in the city with impunity. The police were baffled because he left no trace…’ Shetty gives us the bare bones of the story and I have ever since been on the lookout for details. And as always, it was the Chief who showed the way. One afternoon last year, or was it early this year I forget, I was asked by Mr Muthiah’s daughters Dolly and Chooty to come home and see if I wanted any books from his collection. I brought away quite a few and one among these was Crimes, Criminals and Courts, (Extracts from my Scrap Book) by E.L. Iyer, BA, Barrister at Law (printed at the Vavilla Press, 1940). This slim volume compiles the articles that the author had written over a decade in The Hindu. One among these is the story of the cat burglar. He adopted several aliases but his real name was Kirubanda Veerakone and he was Sinhalese by birth. He married early, had a son, probably broke up with the wife and having left his child with a brother, became a ship’s hand. He found employment as a fireman in a German cargo boat and later as a stoker in a P & O steamer. In these jobs he travelled far and wide, taking in even Great Britain. His tenure on the ships made him an expert in handling ropes and climbing masts, skills that would stand him in good stead when he eventually took to burglary. In 1923, after three years at sea, he was discharged at Colombo without a job. He then drifted to Bombay where he tried his hand at various jobs and also had his first brush with crime, for he was awarded a month’s imprisonment under the Bombay City Police Act. On release he shifted to Bangalore, where he fell in love with a young Christian girl, declared his name to be PA Parreira and married her. To her family, he was a jewel merchant from Colombo who had to travel often in connection with his business. He was known to be a devoted husband. There must have come a time when in the eyes of his wife at least he was no longer a jewel merchant for in 1924 Parreira was employed in a hotel in Bangalore and there committed theft in which act he was apprehended, charged, tried, and sentenced to three years imprisonment at Vellore Jail. Released in 1927, he embarked on his career as a cat burglar. In the words of EL Iyer, ‘Parreira was an undergraduate in crime when he entered the Vellore Jail but after a course of three years he emerged as an honours graduate’. Rather amazingly, he was fifty when he took to burglary that involved ‘climbing walls and running up creepers,’ an age that according to Iyer was when ‘Government servants usually succumb to sleeping sickness or begin to consider the question of commuting their pensions’. Madras became Parreira’s favourite haunt, for it was then a city of vast distances and enormous garden bungalows. Within a short while of his release in April 1927, the city registered as many as ten thefts, all in bungalows. He had a routine – of travelling to Madras by second class, completing a burglary and then returning to Bangalore. A pattern was emerging – when he was in Madras, thefts in Bangalore abated and when he returned, the former city had a respite. When he extended his operations to cities in North India, both Madras and Bangalore had some peace. But these patterns were not obvious then, for the police in the various parts of India were not linked by communication. Early in his career he did make one mistake – he tried to dispose off gold items stolen in Madras city at a pawnbroker’s in the Flower Bazaar area. The police were alerted and apprehended him. He was sentenced by the Second Presidency Magistrate to three months rigorous imprisonment, but the police did not suspect that he was the cat burglar they were after. On release he became cautious – he never sold his loot in the same city in which he had stolen it. His career prospered and he was soon operating in Karachi, Rangoon, Mandalay and Jodhpur! He was a true artiste and left behind some tell-tale signs – after each burglary, he would remain in an unoccupied part of the same house, smoking cigarettes and then early in the morning, would slip out, mingling with the city’s labour force that set out to work early. He was cheeky as well – on one occasion he saw a policeman whom he knew was on the lookout for him and having walked up to him asked for a match. Having lit his cigarette, he walked away! And he stole only what could be safely taken away in his pockets – heavy silver articles were always left untouched no matter how tempting they may have been. There were other aspects to his handiwork –

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Subbu Arumugam at the Music Academy in 2015

The Bow Falls Silent

What will the world be without Subbu Arumugam? A less happy place. For his countless fans he may have not been an active presence in the past few years but just the thought of his performances would bring a smile and make you feel better. He was a message bearer – carrying messages of social importance but it was the simplicity and humour with which he presented that made them get across. That, and his medium of course – the villupattu. He was true to the art and in the manner of the bards of yore. Above all, he spread joy. To those of us who grew up in the early days of Doordarshan, Subbu Arumugam was a familiar face. There was the ensemble on stage – he with the upturned bow, and his accompanists all wielding traditional South Indian percussion instruments, the ‘yes man’ who was so important to the narrative and flow, and everyone beaming, radiating happiness. ‘Thanthanathom enru …’ was how the performance began and it would then proceed at a brisk pace, with music and conversation, punctuated with ‘aamaam’ from the yes man. Learn to say Aamaam regularly, said Subbu Arumugam in one episode, and you will do well in government service and also politics. The recital would end with ‘Vaazhiyave…’ -a free-flowing benediction on the world. In the process, the message of the day – on honesty, cleanliness, family planning, AIDS, or whatever else – would have been delivered to us. We were so mesmerised by the performance that it would take some time for us to come back to the mundane world. To be sure, there had been several villupattu performers before him but in our time he probably did more for the art then anyone else. Born in 1928 in the Tirunelveli district, Subbu Arumugam had plenty of opportunity to listen to villupattu. The art was going through a revival, with messages of freedom being propagated. Alongside this he had a natural flair for Tamil, his first collection of songs being published when he was 16 or so. In 1948, the renowned actor NS Krishnan came for an event at the Hindu College where Subbu Arumugam was a student. He was greatly impressed with the latter spontaneously composing a song on Gandhi and invited him to be a part of his atelier which had several people helping him with scripts and narratives. Subbu Arumugam moved to Madras. He had plenty of opportunity to observe NSK perform villupattu thereafter and gradually honed his craft. Another inspiration was noted writer and SS Vasan associate Kothamangalam Subbu. His villupattu on Gandhi was a favourite of Subbu Arumugam’s. The passing of NSK meant the loss of an anchor but it also made Subbu Arumugam blossom on his own. But the association with the film world did not cease. He wrote scripts for actor Nagesh and composed the occasional song. But greater recognition came with his becoming a regular over the radio. His fans were legion ranging from the Mahaperiyava of Kanchi and MS Subbulakshmi to the man on the street. He was the same towards everyone, irrespective of status. Once on a visit to Kanchipuram he went to the Math to have darshan of the Mahaperiyava. The seer asked Subbu as to what brought him to Kanchi. There was a wedding in the family he replied and so he along with others had come to buy silk sarees. Being there he had decided to drop in at the Math to see the sage. ‘See how this child speaks the truth,’ beamed the Mahaperiyava. ‘People who come here will usually never tell me they have really come to buy sarees and by the way take me in as one of the sights of Kanchi. They will aver they came only for my darshan.’ And then amidst gales of laughter from the audience he turned to Subbu Arumugam and said, ‘You too must learn to speak that way.’ His bond with the Mahaperiyava he considered one of the greatest blessings of his life and this brought forth the performance of ‘Karunai Kadal Kamakshi’ one of Subbu Arumugam’s very popular creations. A serious researcher into the history of villupattu, and in which subject his children specialised and qualified, Subbu Arumugam had for his audiences a characteristically simple explanation – the king was tired after hunting in the forest and for his entertainment, the minister crafted the art with what was available – an upturned bow, a pot, striking staffs and native instruments. There was of course much more than that to it but to him the message was more important. The upturned bow marked the end of violence and that such an instrument could be used for music meant the return of peace. We could do with more Subbu Arumugams today. But he was unique. This article appeared in abridged form in The Hindu dated October 14, 2022

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Kalki's PS-1 Cover

Kalki Krishnamurthy’s Madras

PS-1 is all the rage at present. I use the word rage advisedly, but it does seem the mot just given the reactions and discussions that have since erupted (to put it mildly). But what role did Chennai or Madras have in its creation? Plenty. Kalki was after all a man from Madras – it was here that he wrote most of his immortal works. It shaped him, and most certainly influenced his writing as well. Let us trace some of the locations in the city most closely associated with Kalki, with the help of his biography, Ponniyin Puthalvar, penned by journalist Sunda. Kalki’s association with Madras began in 1923. He was then working for the Khadar Board in Erode and one day was summoned by noted freedom fighter Dr TSS Rajan, who later became a minister in the Rajaji cabinet of 1937. Rajan gave Kalki a letter of introduction to Tiru Vi Kalyanasundara Mudaliar, noted writer, labour leader and spiritualist who was then running a magazine named Navasakti in Madras. Kalki was firmly told by Rajan that his future lay in journalism, and he ought to seriously consider it. The letter to Tiru Vi Ka was the first step. Armed with this, Kalki resigned his position at the Khadar Board and proceeded to Madras. Tiru Vi Ka welcomed him and gave him a job at Navasakti. Conditions were spartan and the payment meagre but Kalki persevered. He enjoyed the work and Tiru Vi Ka was most encouraging. He even got Kalki to sing Bharati’s poems at an event held in a coconut grove in Thiruvallikeni to pay homage to the poet. The noted patriot Subramania Siva was in the audience and appreciated Kalki’s singing. His marriage to Rukmini had taken place but the bride was still at her parental home. In 1926 or thereabouts it would seem Kalki brought her to Madras and set up house in Royapettah. Thereafter, they moved first to Tank Bund Road in West Mambalam where rentals were low. Following a burglary scare they moved in with Rukmini’s uncle’s family – the latter lived in a large house they owned in Easwaran Koil Street, Old Mambalam. A year later, the Kalki couple was in Apparswami Koil Street, Mylapore. This was where Kalki published at his expense Sarathaiyin Thanthiram, a compilation of his short stories. His other work, Sathya Sothanai, which was a translation of Mahatma Gandhi’s writings too came out the same year. The books did not sell and eventually Kalki had to seek the assistance of SS Vasan. Their acquaintance had taken place in July 1928 when Kalki wrote Ettikki Potti, a humorous article for Vasan’s Ananda Vikatan.  The latter who was a past master at marketing soon managed what Kalki could not and that marked the beginning of a friendship. Kalki began writing regularly for Ananda Vikatan. He also quit Navasakti But he did not join Vikatan full time immediately though that was Vasan’s expectation. To Kalki Rajaji was a mentor supreme and when the latter invited him to join his ashram at Tiruchengode he did not think twice. There he assisted Rajaji in the bringing out of Vimochanam, a periodical dedicated to prohibition. The Salt Satyagraha came about and Kalki, who was an ardent participant, was sentenced to imprisonment – his second stint in prison. He was released in 1931 and after a brief stay at Tiruchengode came to Madras once again. He joined Ananda Vikatan and became its editor. The Kalki couple lived on Mint Street, close to where the magazine also had its offices, and this was where they raised a family – their first child and daughter Anandi was delivered at the Christina Rainey Hospital, Tondiarpet. It was the beginning of a most prolific period in writing, one that ended only with his death in 1954. Kalki wrote short stories, novels, editorials and travelogues for Vikatan but it was his reviews of stage plays, Carnatic concerts, movies and gramophone records, that he wrote under the pen name of Karnatakam that brought him a huge following. And from these we get to know of several famed landmarks of the city, now all lost. Kalki frequented theatres such as Elphinstone, Crown, Gaiety and Wellington. We read about what Saundarya Mahal on Govindappa Naicken Street looked like. We accompany him to music performances in Gokhale Hall and the St Mary’s Parish Hall on Armenian Street, to Veda Vilas on Egmore High Road and to the pandal behind Ripon Buildings and the University Senate House – venues for the Music Academy. We see him at the RR Sabha in Mylapore. Without Kalki, many of these places would have vanished without a record. These were very busy days and brought him a reasonable income. Emboldened by this, Kalki purchased a plot of three grounds on Bazullah Road, T Nagar. The house however took time to come up chiefly because he was busy 24 *7 at Ananda Vikatan, which partly thanks to his pen, had become popular enough to transform from a fortnightly to a weekly. The house was eventually completed in 1935 and Kalki moved in. This was where his son Rajendran was born. Kalki was to be in this residence till 1939. His neighbours were close associates – Rajaji’s son on one side and RV Sastri, a Gandhian and social reformer on the other. In 1939, with his economic status vastly improved owing to his helming Ananda Vikatan, Kalki purchased a vast eight ground plot on Boag Road. The residence when completed was in the modern style and cost him Rs 40,000. It was during that time that his novel Tyagabhoomi was being serialised in Vikatan and also being shot simultaneously at the MPPC premises, later to become Gemini Studios. The 1940s brought many changes. Kalki went to prison for the third and final time during the Quit India Movement. In 1941, he and friend T Sadasivam, then Advertising Manager at Ananda Vikatan, quit the magazine and began Kalki. Thereafter began Vasan-baiting, which continued till differences were reconciled following the release of the latter’s Avvaiyar in 1953. From being a career journalist to part-owner of a magazine was a difficult transition. Working

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Stones in Books – the story of Government-run libraries

Was it not the Bard who said there are stones in books and sermons in running brooks? The Man from ­Madras Musings is not so sure, but he does remember being very impressed when he read those lines for the first time. They more or less swam into MMM’s consciousness when he recently happened to visit a library run by a government institution. The place was touted to have a hoary past and MMM was all excited. He had been granted permission to visit it in connection with some research that he was doing. The request had been hanging fire for quite a while and MMM had to move heaven and earth to be granted access. It was almost as though MMM had asked to be allowed access to state secrets. But now that the permission had come, MMM lost no time in going across to the library. Speed is always of the essence when it comes to matters concerning access to Government records. You can never be sure as to when your permit will be revoked or the sanctioning authority may get transferred, in which case his/her successor will spend all his/her time revoking whatever the predecessor had done. And so, there was MMM at the hallowed portals, all agog. He was like a child on its birthday, awaiting gifts. And from then on, the story could only go steadily downhill. The first shock was to see the librarian prostrate behind a few racks. She got up on seeing MMM and was suitably apologetic – she had been unwell with a virus she explained and was just recovering. MMM expressed his sympathies even as he hitched his face mask a little higher. The lady became chatty thereafter – she could have stayed at home she said but preferred to be at the library. MMM commended her for her sense of duty. To this she replied that while that was true enough, what appealed even more to her was the peace and quiet of the place, ideal for rest. At home she said, there were the in-laws and also the demands of the children and the husband, while here at the library she was all by herself. She then also added in what MMM took to be a powerful hint, that nobody ever came to the library anyway. MMM decided that he had better call the meeting to order. He had, he said, come specifically in search of some journals that he knew were brought out by the institution for over seven decades. The lady immediately replied that she had never heard of such a publication and was MMM sure he was not mistaking this institution for some other place? MMM said he was quite sure and moreover Google Books was also emphatic that the past volumes were to be found here. The woman was no longer smiling. Google Books could say anything she said but reality could be quite otherwise. There were no such books in the library. Was there a catalogue asked MMM. Yes, came the reply, but it would mean switching on the computer and that could take time. MMM said he would wait and while he was at it, could he wander around the library and see what was available? To this there came a reluctant yes by way of an answer. Even as the computer gasped and spluttered to life, and not before three men were summoned to switch it on and see if it worked, MMM browsed the shelves. In one of these he found three bound volumes of the journal he was looking for. It was a drop in the ocean when compared to the treasure trove he had expected to find but nevertheless it was there. MMM triumphantly took the volumes to the front desk and confronted the librarian who was not so pleased. MMM then asked her as to where the other numbers were. Pat came the answer that as far as she knew, and she had been in service for five years, these were the only volumes available. She had never seen any other. She also added that the library had a policy of culling unwanted books each year and it was quite likely that older issues had been destroyed. MMM could not believe his ears. They were one of their kind he exclaimed. So what, came the reply, nobody used them in years and what with space being a constraint and the pressure to accommodate new books, some clearance had to be done. MMM had nothing to say. He glanced around at the so-called new books – they were of the kind you normally classified as pulp fiction. Clearly, reading tastes had changed with time. MMM had to beat a hasty retreat. But he could not help noticing that despite the large-scale purchase of potboilers, patronage had not improved at the library. A quiet glance at the visitors’ book revealed none in the past few years. Of course, there was covid. The librarian’s parting shot at MMM, just before she went back to recline between the racks was that if he gave her advance intimation before arriving next time (meaning he had popped up this time like the genie in Aladdin), she would make sure she was less busy and be of more help to him.

Stones in Books – the story of Government-run libraries Read More »

Before we scoff at Bengaluru floods, let us recall 2015,16, 18, and 21.

Last fortnight saw unprecedented rains in the city of Bengaluru. There was widespread flooding, and a crisis of severe proportions unfolded, exposing the woefully inadequate and faultily developed infrastructure of the city. There followed the usual barrage of angry posts and articles by social media warriors from the city. And then came posts from other cities, scoffing at the way Bengaluru claimed to be a world-class metro when in reality it was not. Speculations followed on which city of India could replace Bengaluru as the IT capital – what was surprising was the number of posts that felt Chennai was one of the contenders. There could be nothing more delusional than that. We are all for positive thinking and being ambitious. In fact, when it comes to championing Chennai there can be none more enthusiastic than us. But we do feel that this was rather going over the top. Have these people forgotten what happened in 2015? Let us refresh their memories – in December 2015 came the famed Chennai floods when the city witnessed torrential rains. The administration, especially the Chennai Metrowater and Sewerage Board and the PWD, was clearly caught unawares. The decision to release surplus waters in the Chembarambakkam Reservoir was delayed until too late, some say because the chief minister was incommunicado, and her ministers were unwilling to take a call. The floodwaters entered the city and caused untold misery and havoc, though with surprisingly very little loss of life. Chennai which over the years had been consistently building over its lakes, wetlands, and reservoirs was paying the price, but it could have been avoided under a more vigilant administration. The same angry posts flooded social media – there was a hue and cry from armchair warriors – those who had built on reservoirs were named (whether they were shamed is another matter). There were cries of never again. And then life went back to its old course. Came 2016 and we had Cyclone Vardah. And then after a couple of years respite, floods were back – in all the new areas. Before the older parts of the city could smugly reflect on their good fortune there came the floods of 2021, when they became the victims, including a part that is now a VIP locality. And on December 30, 2021, there occurred a freak cloudburst that not one weather system could predict – the older parts of the city were lashed and within a few hours, Chennai had had more rain in 2021 than what it had experienced in 2015. Call it a consequence of global warming on whatever but the fact remains that the city reeled under the onslaught. And our infrastructure collapsed. The fact is, there is no Indian city that can claim to be superior to others when it comes to systemic failures. For that matter, no international city is capable of fighting weather phenomenon when they happen in excess. Indian cities, as in any third world country (and let us face it, we are one), are even more prone to collapses of this kind because of the endemic compromises, corruption and callousness that goes by the name of town planning and development. Chennai is no exception to this. Before we begin rejoicing over what happened to Bengaluru, we need to reflect on the fact that there is a monsoon just around the corner and the roads are in an advanced state of excavation. The next two months will show what has been the result of the drain-laying exercise. And we would like to extend a word of caution – it is best not to expect some superlative solution.

Before we scoff at Bengaluru floods, let us recall 2015,16, 18, and 21. Read More »

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