Sights and sound of Madras in the 1950s

For a young man in his late teens who came to Madras in the early fifties, the sights and sounds were frightening and embarrassing. The closely built streets, long stretches of busy roads and the multitudes of crowds chattering in several languages were contrast to me, haling as I did from a village in the deep south. Most of the scenes in the streets and by-lanes were unusual and conversations – though in Tamil – were unintelligible. It was much later that it dawned on me these were corruptions caused by the confluence of migrants from various states into the city.

A clerical job in one of the trading establishments in a narrow street of George Town and living accommodation in a back-lane of Triplicane were both unnerving to the novice. Dirty streets, pavements filled with whole families living there and desecrating the area, and sewage overflowing added to the scene of filth, making it difficult for one to reach his workplace. Buffaloes in large numbers sullied the residential lanes as the owners of the animals did not bother to clean them. Restaurants were heavily crowded at lunch time. It was a common sight as scores of hungry customers fixing lunch tokens on the tables even before the earlier lunchers had finished eating and waiting till the tables were cleaned (half-heartedly). The hawkers of various trinkets jostled with the pedestrians in China Bazaar. The ubiquitous trams with their perennial clang-clanging all the way and black and yellow taxies speeding through the crowds presented a picture of chaos and impending danger.

The most intriguing sight of those days was the numerous lepers begging everywhere who threatened passers-by as if to touch them with their sore-ridden finger stumps. Occasionally one came across a sad scene of someone covered like a corpse and laid on the pavement, while several men and women wailed and demanded money for the cremations. Someone later explained to me that it was all make-believe. Later, I found it true, for when they had collected sufficient funds for meals and drinks, the scene wound up with the erstwhile corpse sprinted along with the others.

All the massive buildings along the first and second line beach roads looked like ghosts as they were covered with thick layers of black soot emanating from the ships and coal wharfs. Streams of navy men and sailors of various nationalities could be seen wandering aimlessly. They used to sell fancy goods and fragrances for a small profit. Emaciated rickshaw-pullers were everywhere, bargaining with heavily-built northerners before accepting custom. “Paathu pottu kudu sir!” was the oft-repeated refrain. But the frugal passenger would neither get down from the hackney nor pay a paisa more. It was common knowledge that law enforces often hauled the rickshaw-pullers in under the Immoral Traffic Act as they acted as brokers of call girls and lured the lemmings to shady lodges.

The hardware merchants of Mannady who hailed mostly from Kayalpatnam spoke a peculiar lingo (not their Thirunelveli Tamil) sounding Arabic or Swahili though they swore it was Urdu.

As the evening sun descended on the horizon scores of office workers trudged along the beach road to reach home. This habit helped them to save the one-way fare besides an improvement of health in the evening breeze. On the beach, there were regular listeners for the Corporation Band. Some others used to sit-around a pole with a loud speaker broadcasting radio programmes. This encouraged one cine lyricist coin a song “Maayamaana kambu onnu manisan pola paaduthu” ( a magical pole sings like a human being). There were groups of urchins gambling with cries of “Vai Raja Vai” and disappearing at the mere sight of a “Mama” (Police man). Sporadic rallies of mill workers or communist party workers shouting “Inqulab Zindabad” terminated imperialism and capitalist exploitation.

Another familiar character in the beach on Sundays was a street artist known as tape Thangavelu. Tapping two pieces of wooden plates similar to chipla kattai, he used to sell strange potions and cures for scorpion bites, simultaneously singling political songs, changing sides at every venue depending on the area’s political leanings. If one was in praise of Thevar Muthuramalingam on any day, it was on Periyar the next day.

The city’s sounds nay noises were also beyond one’s comprehension. It was discomforting to hear people of all ages addressing everyone else in singular. In the districts this was considered offensive. It took me a long time to understand shouts of sappadapayya, kuruvikal and mughumaavu as equivalents of sapota fruit, red oxide ball and powdered calcium used for decorating house fronts. The product “Payoria tooth powder” made one to wonder if it would clean the teeth or cause “Pyorrhea” a funny sound “ooooyi” denoted curd.

Rahman a blind hawker of agarbathis solicitated custom with his call, “nooru bathi aaru anna” in China Bazaar, while a toothless beggar woman played a noisy harmonium and sang raucously all through the day in the Evening Bazaar bus stop. Bouts of fights and arguments brought forth nasty expletives bordering on vulgarity. The only decent words often heard were “kayalath” (kaiyaal ahaathathu- useless) and “kasmalaam” (derived from the Sanskrit word “Kasmalam – filthy). These are now seldom heard as other variants have come into use. Comedian Chandra Babu expertly used these words in his dialogue and “Cho” had a rich repertoire for his portrayals.

These were the days when English was spoken and understood with relative ease and all other Southern languages, particularly Telugu were predominant. The one instance coming to mind is that of a Police announcement outside the General Hospital advising jay walkers to keep off the road. An earnest policeman translated such warning into chaste Tamil. Making fun of it, a senior citizen quipped “Here is a fit candidate for a Tamil Reader in the University”. And we the listeners had a hearty laugh.

S. Krishna
New 81/2, Fourth Main Road
Gandhi Nagar, Adyar, Chennai 20

Missing bulwark

Senior citizen morning walkers at Besant Nagar Beach have a fund of information waiting to be tapped. One of them, N. Chandrasekaran, Superintendent Engineer, Madras Port Trust (Rtd.), supplied the following:

The bulwark was built to protect Fort St. George and Black Town. The top stones used were of 2 to 3 ton weight, laid over smaller rubble stones. The smaller bed stones would prevent under-scouring and sinking of the top stones. It extended up to Clive Battery.

Before the harbour was constructed, cargo was handled using masula boats which went out to the ships anchored in the deep. Due to high waves, there used to be considerable loss of cargo.

While dredging for Jawahar Dock in the 1980s, a Dutch firm salvaged about a dozen copper plates measuring 3-foot square and 1/2” thick. They bore witness to the sea being so near the Fort St. George. The plates were handed over to the Museum.

The Coromandel coast has a natural phenomenon called littoral drift. This causes accretion of moving sand on the south side of any project or structure and erosion on the north side. Perhaps, Marina Beach, due to this phenomenon, consequent to the Harbour breakwaters, is projecting into the sea and causing accretion on the south side. To prevent erosion on the north, the then Madras Government maintained the shore by dumping stones (similar to the bulwark) for a length of 1¾ miles. This was made obligatory under the Madras Port Trust Act of 1905.

T.M. Raghunathan
A 2/2 13th Cross Street
Besant Nagar
Chennai 600 090

Snakes & the Bible

Dr.B.Vijayaraghavan’s notes (MM, August 16th) on snakes make interesting reading. It has been rightly pointed out that no such snake, like the cockatrice or basilisk, is known to science. The reference to a Biblical text (Isaiah 11:8) prompts me to say the following. The mention of ‘cockatrice’ in the Bible is exactly 400 years old. What was then launched as the Authorised Version (King James Bible, 1611) is not authoritative any more in English. The Hebrew word translated as “cockatrice” in the text actually means “a creature thrusting out the tongue” and, hence, “cockatrice” has been rejected in all critical and subsequent translations of the Bible.

Though several kinds of snakes find mention in the Bible, only two have been scientifically attested so far – Cerastes Hasselquistii and Vipera palastinae. Some English versions of the Bible have rendered a portion of a different text (Isaiah 14:29) to mean cockatrice as well as basilisk. But they remain mythical, though containing some cultic significance.

It appears that a Mesopotamian seal impression dated to about 2000 BCE resembles what William Crooke and Dr.Vijayaraghavan refer to as a “cock-headed snake”. Marija Gimbutas, an authority on the pantheon of Old Europe, has archaeologically traced the presence of a snake as a goddess to 5000 BCE. She has also postulated the ambivalence of this representation. This is strikingly similar to what Dr. Vijayaraghavan notes as “born of the egg of a cock (and ... not a hen).”

The common name for snake in Hebrew is naahaas (phonetically simplified). Its link to the Indo-Aryan counterpart ‘naga’ is obvious. With the addition of the sibilant (so fittingly articulated!), it is converted into ‘snake’ in English. These philological items betray cosmic association with “primordial waters” too (Amos 9:3). A synonymous Hebrew word saaraap, meaning flame-coloured serpent, is perhaps related to sarbha of the pan-Indian realm. The terms paab (Toda), paambu (Tamil) and its variant haavu (Kannada) seem to indicate a different cultural genesis for the Dravidian etyma. The same is applicable to the archaic Tamil aravu.

Rev. Philip K Mulley
St. John’s Church
Mount Road, Coonoor
The Nilgiris 643 102

A's and O's

MMM’s madam/mutt dilemma (MM, August 1st) seems a tough one to resolve! And what do we make of Sevalia? Now, we’ve all learnt to dot our i’s and cross our t’s, but not to chop our a’s and change our o’s! Unfortunately, this is what seems to have happened with the new name boards for Patullo’s Road and Conran Smith Road. The road named for Archibald Patullo has become Patullas Road, while the one named to honour Commissioner Smith has become Conron Smith Road! The Chennai Corporation certainly has its a’s and o’s messed up.

T.T. Srinivasaraghavan
tt@sundaramfinance.in

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While the new signboards indicating road names is a welcome development, I am appalled at the way road names have been spelt. Maloney Road is spelt as Melloni Road (Editor’s note: It really is Molony’s Road), and Pernpet (near the YMCA) I presume is meant to be Burnpet? How many more names does our Corporation/Municipality want to distort? As it is, taking out so-called caste indicators on road names has brought its own distortions. It is distressing, to say the least, to see such ridiculous spellings of road names.

C.K. Jaidev
ckjaidev@gmail.com

Correct answer

In the issue dated August 16th, the correct answer for question No. 20 in the Ramanan’s quiz is Raja Raja Cholan starring Sivaji Ganesan and a host of other leading stars. The film was produced by G. Umapathy of M/s Anand Theatre and not Maaveeran.

T.S. Sivakumar
New No 6, 3rd Street
Padmanaba Nagar
Adyar, Chennai 600 020