Seetharama Rao & Shama Bhat

There are a few additional points to reader V. Theetharappan’s letter (MM, May 16th).

Seetharama Rao lived in Dasaprasad, which was on Gangadeeswarar Koil Street, an extension of Raja Annamalai Chettiar Road towards the temple tank, nearly opposite the Gangadeeswarar-Pankajakshi Temple in Purasawalkam. He was ‘K’ Seetharama Rao. As a primary school student in the late 1950s in the adjacent Chidambaram Chettyar Memorial Preparatory School, I had always been intrigued by the chiming of multiple cymbals and bells between 10.30 and 11 a.m. every day. Later, I learnt they used to be times of aarti in Seetharama Rao’s house, which was next to the primary school I was studying in. His mother was Ganga, to whom Seetharama Rao was attached immensely. Ganga lived 100 years and that was a big story in old Purasawalkam!

Sanjeeva Rao (who used to live by the Kelly’s-Balfour Road junction), one of the elder sons of Seetharama Rao, named his new restaurant in George Town ‘Ganga’ in honour of his grandmother. Thayir vadai was a speciality of the Ganga restaurant and just to enjoy the ‘embellished’ thayir vadai at Ganga, I used to go all the way from Purasawalkam-Kilpauk to George Town once a week.

I can still recall the anniversary of Madwacharya being celebrated with pomp by Seetharama Rao. Led by him, all the males of his family would go dancing, chiming cymbals, in front of the decorated portrait that was carried in procession by his family members through Lawder’s Gate Road, Adiappa Mudali Street, Vellala Street and, then, enter Purasawalkam High Road, before returning to Dasaprasad. It is so difficult for me to imagine that such a well-knit family has fragmented and the giant landmark of Madras Dasaprakash has been pulled down to accommodate apartments.

Ananda Rau (Manager, Hotel Dasaprakash; he was ‘P’ Ananda Rau) lived in Anand Villa on Raja Annamalai Chettiar Road, opposite M Ct Muthiah Boys’ High School. He was the younger brother of the radiologist P. Rama Rau, who practised radiology on Poonamallee High Road (later named as the Rama Rau Polyclinic), which was later run by his son Bujanga Rama Rau as a nursing home for several years, and is now run by the latter’s son, Manohar Rama Rau, a UK-qualified surgeon. Rama Rau’s Polyclinic is close to Lakshmanaswamy Mudaliar-Venugopal’s Kensington nursing home, which was used by the famous Madras obstetrician-gynaecologist-surgeon Sarukkai (Srinivasa) Rangachari before Lakshmanaswamy acquired it. Ananda Rau’s only son Hari Ananda Rau, a qualified medical practitioner, ran a pathology laboratory for several years in the 1980s and 1990s.

I understand that Hari and family have now shifted to Bangalore. Bujanga Rama Rau’s sister (P. Rama Rau’s daughter) married K. Sripathy Rau, an MS by qualification, who practised in Barnaby Road, which is geographically exactly behind P. Rama Rau’s house and clinic on Poonamallee High Road. Sripathy Rau, a gentle and skilful surgeon, was the doctor-in-attendance during the last days of K.V. Al. Rm. Alagappa Chettiar, who lived in Krishna Vilas on Raja Annamalai Chettiar Road, opposite the now decimated, triangular Bank Manickam Mudaliar Park, which hosted a congested reading room supported by the Corporation of Madras.

Ramakrishna Lunch Home owner V.R. Ramanatha Iyer’s (VRR) adopted son was Ramakrishnan (after whom the hotel was named by VRR), who was also a qualified medical practitioner. He and his wife Jayam – a qualified obstetrician-gynaecologist (an MBBS, DGO holder) – practised in a large house opposite the now defunct Roxy (previously Globe) cinema house on Purasawalkam High Road. Jayam had a roaring practice in Purasawalkam. Next to the Ramakrishnans lived K.C. Nambiar, a British qualified surgeon with an FRCS, who was the family physician of the late actress Savitri Ganesh.

VRR was the Mayor of Madras. The following is a humorous story I have heard from my father. When VRR’s term as Mayor of Madras ended, he acquired two healthy oxen auctioned by the Corporation to use them for his (bullock) cart. As the story goes, whenever these oxen saw (or smelt) a rubbish bin (those concrete structures on streets we had in the Madras of the 1950s and 1960s), they would stop because they had been used earlier in the rubbish carts of the Corporation. I am not sure of the veracity of this story; nevertheless, it provides a laugh.

Dr. A. Raman
Charles Sturt University,
PO Box 883, Orange, NSW 2800

To reader V. Theetharappan’s recollection of unforgettable fare in old Madras (MM, May 16th), I wish to add I was a regular customer in the 1960s of Shama Bhat who ran Udupi Home at Halls’ Road. I used to walk from my workplace in Casa Major Road to enjoy the masala dosa he served for tiffin. It used to cost eight annas (fifty paise) and was deemed, the costliest in Madras. My friends used to look at me with respect for spending so much on that dish.

Shama Bhat looked to me like an amalgam of Madurai Mani Iyer and Lal Bahadur Shastri. Clad in spotless white khadi he used to go round the tables keeping a sharp eye on the customers. One day as I took a sip of coffee after my mandatory masala dosa he materialised near me and asked if the coffee was ok. I hesitated but, on his prodding, confessed it could have been hotter. He immediately ordered a fresh cup of piping hot coffee. When I asked him how he found out that the coffee was not up to the mark, he beamed at me and said that I winced after taking the first sip which spoke volumes. Such proprietors with attention to customers did exist in those days.

His family now runs Matsya, a deluxe eatery, at the same place. I enjoy the status of being an old customer with a record attendance of more than 50 years, with inevitable breaks.

J.S. Raghavan
Flat E, Balu Flats, 21 Mahadevan Street
West Mambalam, Chennai 600 033