Long drive in

When I was taking this photograph, I did not realize that these gates hid a long driveway into Bedford House. Most of that driveway is hidden by the trees that grow on the grounds, but I can tell you that on your way out, you will find half the route different from what you saw on the way in. Considering that it is owned by a branch of an illustrious family of industrialists and bankers, it should not be surprising that this house is set in a large patch of land, or that there is no way we can  see any part of the house from these gates.

The Bedford House has been with the M.Ct. family for just over a century, now. It was in 1915 that M Ct Muthiah Chettiar, who had moved to Madras from the family seat at Kanadukathan, bought this place. There seems to be no indication why the sellers, Mercantile Bank of India, wanted this property off their hands. 

They may have to wait a long while for that to happen! 

Hotel house

Today marks the 47th anniversary of the passing away of one of Chennai's culinary 'Gods'. He has been away from this city for longer than he was here, but in the couple of decades that he ran his business in Madras, he established a presence - and a reputation - that has transcended generations and international borders. That 'God' was Kuthethur Seetharama Rao, who began his foray into the food business by setting up Modern Café at Mysore. The success of his first venture emboldened him to strike out to Madras, and the second Modern Café was set up on the Esplanade. Business there was good as well, no doubt helped by the masala dosa that Seetharama Rao has been credited with popularising.

He believed that it was possible to strike a balance between the choultry that the ordinary Indian traveller was expected to put up with and the plush western hotels favoured by the not-so-ordinary folk. From that belief was born Hotel Dasaprakash, which was an iconic landmark of the city. In 1940, Seetharama Rao built a house for himself just a little way away from the hotel, naming it Dasaprasad. Seetharama Rao extended his culinary empire across Mysore, Madras and Ooty. His descendants have taken the brand overseas: the first Dasaprakash in the USA opened at Cerritos, Los Angeles in 1989. The overseas presence is all that remains - Modern Café and Dasaprakash are no more here in India. The Chennai hotel has made way for a residential complex and the hotel in Ooty is now Villa Park.

That house continues to be the seat of Seetharama Rao's family. The building is still Art Deco and the gateposts continue to proclaim this as the residence of the proprietor of Modern Café. The only thing I am wondering about is the spelling of his name: maybe it was too long to fit on the sign, so it has been modified to read "K. Sitarama Rao"!

Abandonded

On Vellala Street in Purasaiwalkam, there are a few buildings which appear to have been residences at some time. Most of them appear to be of the 1930s vintage, giving us an idea of what the street must have looked like in those days. At least one of them has been given over to a temple, while one other houses a shop.  

This one seemed particularly lonely. Maybe it was the fresh colours of its neighbour that made the exposed brickwork even more vulnerable. In a few years, this would have come crumbling down; and there would be one less building to show us what street would have looked like in the 1930s!

Home, sweet home

In 1910, P.M.A. Muthiah Chettiar, a Nattukottai Chettiar became the first of his clan to decide to settle down in Madras. His choice of location was Purasaiwalkam and he picked up a bungalow called "Natana Vilas". PMA Muthiah Chettiar went on to become one of the Directors of Indian Bank, and on to other great things. 

Muthiah Chettiar sold the house to Annamalai Chettiar and it was then bought by S.S. Rajan, whose descendants own the property now. A few years ago, the owners agreed to have the house re-purposed to accommodate a restaurant. The first one which came up there was called Rasam. While the idea was interesting, it didn't catch the fancy of too many people and was closed within a couple of years. 

Rasam was replaced by "Gokulam Veg Restaurant". That is Sri Krishna Sweets' restaurant brand and for a while, it was doing well. But slowly, the mother brand took over; today 'Natana Vilas' is more a heritage outlet for Sri Krishna Sweets, with the restaurant, by all accounts, being little more than a sign outside. No wonder it is sweet home!

Garden house

Walking down Dr Alagappa Chetty Road in Purasaiwalkam, one can't help but notice this manse - well, not a manse in the narrow sense of the word (that refers to a Presbyterian minister's residence), but somehow 'house' seems to be inadequate to describe this property. 

Called Janaka Nivas, it has the name "C. Sampath" on the gatepost. But it appears to be deserted, but in a good way - it promises to be warm and nice smelling - and that was an invitation to take a couple of pictures. But no, it is not deserted. Having seen someone clicking pictures of their house, two ladies threw open a window on the upper floor and let loose a volley of words, which don't lend themselves to easy translation.

Well, it is clear that this house is occupied. And the occupants do not like it being photographed. Yes, I did get the message!

Coloured board

This printer advertises scanning and colour 'xerox' (that's the word for photocopy) in its more modern display. But what catches the eye is the old enamel-on-blue board of the business.

And to top it, the board talks about 'Madras', not Chennai!

New word

Over the past few (several?) years, there has been a sustained effort to ensure that the names of stores and businesses are displayed in Tamizh as well as in English. Initially, the stores just transliterated their names into Tamizh, but these days, they have gone beyond, and have been using more specific words: e.g. 'அடுமனை' for 'bakery' and 'வந்போருலகம்' for hardware. 

This was however a new one on me. I had seen the Tamizh word 'குவியம்' written as 'kuviyam' in English, though I did not know what it meant. When I saw this sign, I just had to look it up - and it seemed very nice, to 'mis-spell' it in English, and to make it fit the business of being an optician: 'kuveyeam' means 'focus'!

One more century

There were a lot of coloured flags along the school wall and I was trying to figure out what they were for. A small sign (you can see it too, if you click on the photo to enlarge it and then check between the second and third flags from the right) gave me a clue, even though I could not really believe it.

The Ewart School - it has a much longer official name - started off in 1913 with three students. It was part of the effort by the Church of England to provide girls with proper education, at least as a finishing school. Over its century, Ewart's has had 7 principals - each of them serving for a long enough stretch to leave their imprint on the school.

The school song is a piece by Rudyard Kipling. I was wondering if he wrote it for Ewart's, but no, he did not. And it is not his work 'A School Song', but the closing poem, 'The Children's Song' from 'Puck of Pook's Hill' that has been used here!

Waiting to fall

It must have been a lovely residence in its time, but it is now a bhoot-bangla. Set back from the road, it would be missed by almost everyone walking past. All along Ritherdon Road, the buildings, even old ones appeared to be quite well maintained, so this one came as a surprise. Managed to get this one picture before the watchman there insisted we go away.

Surprisingly, there are several buildings like this one. Left to ruin because there are several claimants to the property, litigating over it. Wonder if any of the neighbourhood kids use this to play in… or is that too dangerous?

Toys

It was probably too early in the day for the children to be out. And we weren't buying any of those colourful toys that this man was carrying around. The choice was tempting: Spiderman and Mickey Mouse masks, multicoloured toy windmills and those vuvuzela-like contraptions that are guaranteed to give a kid a great time.

But no, we weren't buying any. You will have to wait for the children to arrive, toy-man!

The old, the new

For a long while, I wasn't sure why this building - at the junction of Flowers Road and Dr. Alagappa Road (Ormes Road) - had caught my eye. Looking back at the few pictures I had taken of this, there didn't seem to be anything special about this building: like many others in the vicinity, this seemed to be another building with shops at the street level and residential spaces in the floors above.

Now I think I've figured it out. This building goes back to the 1930s; unlike many of its contemporaries, this one does not present itself in its original form today. A lot of the flourishes have been replaced by more recent construction - take the fascia under the eaves on the first floor, for instance. The houses of the '30s typically had carved wooden ones, (like this one), but here, it seems to have been replaced by a more functional wooden plank. The verandah has been protected by bars taking up space between the original wooden columns. The tiles are newer, and have flattened the gables - I imagine there must have been a couple of them initially.

And most of all, the construction on the second floor seems to be completely modern. Even though this building does not have the stately look of an old construction, it seems to be in better shape as a habitation right now!

You understand, don't you?

My friend Ram, over at the other Chennai Daily Photo blog would be pleased with this one. It may not win the grammar prize in its class, but it gets the message across very effectively!

The river link

In one of his forms, Siva had agreed to cushion the Earth from the river Ganga as she came down from the heavens. 'Ganga-mai' is of course the most sacred of rivers and temples in various parts of the country claim that Ganga-mai's waters reach their premises - through un-mappable subterranean channels, is the usual explanation - so as to offer more value to the devotee. One alternative was to have Siva in his form as 'Gangadeeswaran', implying the presence of the holy river.

Supposed to have been built by a Chola king, the Gangadeeswarar temple at Purasaiwakam honours that form of Siva. The story also goes that the spot where waters brought from the Ganga were placed during the consecration of the temple turned into a tank that would never run dry, not even during the times of drought which emptied all other wells of Purasaiwakam.

For a temple that is supposed to have been around for at least a millenium, there is very little information available about it - and I can't think of any explanation as to why it should be so!

Hotel with a view

It stands in a quiet corner of Purasaiwalkam, near the Jeremiah Park. With its front door opening out to the park, there was nothing else for it but to name this hotel "The Park View Inn"!

Evolving house (s)

In the early stages of the city, housing units were built as approximations of what people were used to in their villages: single storey, walls common to two houses, tiled roof, a thinnai in front, the atrium-like centre courtyard... these were the design elements considered important by the 'natives'. The British, though, liked to have their gardens, didn't care too much for the tiles, had multiple levels in their houses, adapted the thinnai as a verandah... and that template was mimicked by even those Indians who made their fortune working with the Company.

Somewhere around the turn of the 20th century, the uppper middle class (was there such a demographic then?) probably tried to combine both worlds - that was probably the period when the single-storeyed row-houses added an additional floor, gave it a balcony and simulated the verandah, though at an elevated level. The house below seems to have gone a step further by pushing that design into the idea of a garden-house, coming up with a very nice adaptation. Though it looks like it could do with a coat of paint, the photograph does not do it justice - it is really nice and quaint, taking Dr. Alagappa Road back to the days when it was Ormes Road.

But look at the flats behind - the very latest stage in the evolution of residences, they still retain vestiges of the tiled roofs of the days past!

Atheist parking

There is a pretty big church in Lettangs Road (or should it be L'etang's Road? Or Letang's Road? Or what?) called Jehovah Shammah. It may be the reason why several buildings on that road have it written on their walls, "Beware of God". Just in case you do not remember, Jehovah Shammah means 'The Lord is There'.

Whoever parked the car right under the sign must be someone completely convinced that the Lord is everwhere, so it doesn't matter. Alternately, it could be an atheist; stretching that logic, it could be an atheist who does not believe in a God that one does not have to fear, or 'beware of', because "... the God I don't believe in is a good God, a merciful God..."*!


* Catch 22, of course, which lets us not believe in just the kind of God we don't want to believe in!